Details
by Punny GEM
Summary: Carter comes to O'Neill with a Request for Transfer. These are the events leading up to that, and the aftermath of their confrontation.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Details Author: Green Eyed Monster (GEM)  
Email: Status: Complete, but being posted in parts to go easy on our mailboxes Category: Angst, Whumping Pairings: None Spoilers: None Season: Early Rating: PG-13 Content Warnings: Violence Summary: Carter comes to Jack with a Request for Transfer. These are the events leading up to that, and the aftermath of their confrontation.  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1, its characters and all related entities are property of Stargate SG-1 Productions (II) Inc., MGM Worldwide Television Productions Inc., Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp and Showtime Networks Inc / The SciFi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended.  
File Size (kb): Archive: Please ask if you want to use it Author's Note: 

Details

He never thought he'd be hearing those three little words again. Certainly not from anyone in the SGC.

And especially not from Carter.

Well, at the beginning maybe he'd thought it could happen. Hoped for it, even.

But they'd worked together for how long now? He thought he knew her.

Apparently, he didn't know her nearly as well as he thought he did.

Those three little words hung in the air, about to change their lives forever. One look at the determined, angry face before him proved it was no joke.

He had never seen it coming

_Request for Transfer._

oOo

Two weeks earlier…

Day 1: The beginning of the end

"Come."

His office door opened and a man entered, stopping when he saw that there were already two people in the room. "Colonel, sir, I, uh, I'll come back later."

"Sherman, isn't it?" The man in the doorway flushed with pleasure at being recognized, and nodded. "What's up?"

The man bit his lip. "I'd, uh, I'd like to speak with you privately, sir, at your convenience, sir."

"About what?"

The eyes widened, darting around the room. "I'd, uh, rather not say at this time, sir."

Jack looked at the nervous man fidgeting in his doorway, then glanced over at Teal'c sitting nearby. The big man rose.

"Uh, sir, I didn't mean to disturb you, sir. Er, sirs."

"It's ok, Sergeant. Teal'c and I can pick it up again later. You seem to have something on your mind."

"Thankyou, sir. Er, sirs," he said again as Teal'c passed him in the doorway. The Jaffa inclined his head gracefully in acknowledgement and closed the door as he left.

"So?" the Colonel prompted. The man squirmed, still standing by the door. "Want to sit down?"

"Yes, sir." He crossed over and sat by the desk, fidgeting and looking anywhere but at the Colonel.

After a few moments, Jack prompted him again. "This'll be a lot easier if you give me a hint, Sherman."

He flushed, finally making eye contact. "Yes, sir. It's just… I'm not sure. But I'm pretty sure… And I thought you should know…" He stopped, took a deep breath. "One of the guys I work with, sir. He, he came in this morning all scratched and bruised up."

"And?" Jack prompted again.

Sherman stared intently at his own hands as he twisted his fingers. "He said his girlfriend did it in bed, sir."

Jack grimaced faintly. Did he need to be hearing this?

Sherman looked directly at the Colonel. "I don't think she did, sir." The eyebrows before him raised curiously and Sherman flushed. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and swallowed nervously. "Well, I mean, I don't know that exactly, sir, but, my point is, sir, I think she was fighting for real, sir. It doesn't look like anything a person would do for fun."

The Colonel was scowling at the news. "Do you know the girl? If we find out for sure, we can bring him up on charges."

The man squirmed even more, wringing his hands and looking everywhere but at Jack. "That's why I'm here, sir. I can't ask her. But I thought you…"

"She works here?"

"Yes, sir. It's… It's Captain Carter, sir."

"What?"

Sherman jumped back at the vehemence in the Colonel's reaction. Standing now, unconsciously keeping the chair between himself and the angry Colonel, he swallowed nervously. "Sir, I, I, I don't know for sure, sir, really. It's just that, she, she, she's been seeing Hanson, so I thought it must be her. I saw her today, sir, hung out in the cafeteria for half an hour waiting to see if she'd come in, to see if she was ok."

The words were coming fast now that he was finally saying what he'd come to say. "She seems alright, sir, but she's wearing a turtleneck. It's awfully hot out for that. And she was walking slow. She might be sore from something else, sir, but when you put it all together, it just seems like…"

Another deep breath, steadying his resolve. "It seems like he hurt her, sir. And if he did, and if she's not stopping him, not saying anything, then she's in a bad situation, sir."

He looked directly at the Colonel now, straightening up and summarizing. "I think she needs help. Sir."

"If this is true, why wouldn't she say anything?" Jack didn't believe it, didn't want to believe it.

Sherman was looking steadily at him, more earnest than intimidated now. He sat back down, leaning over the desk toward Jack. "I don't really understand it myself, sir, but it happened to my cousin."

Jack listened as Sherman described his family situation. His cousin's husband beat her, but she wouldn't leave him. When they tried to intervene on her behalf, the violence against the wife escalated. Even the police were helpless, as she would not testify against him. In fact, she defended him, made excuses for his behavior. All classic symptoms of an abusive relationship. And Sherman was seeing some of the same warning signs in Carter.

"Please, sir," Sherman implored. "Check it out. See if she's ok. I hope to god she is. But if she's not, be really careful. Lock him up the first time you see him. Or else it'll be really bad for her."

The Colonel stared at him in silence for a moment. He was sure the man was wrong. A defenseless housewife, maybe. Or a very young, insecure woman. But no military officer would stand for that kind of treatment. He must be – what was Doc's word? – projecting. He was projecting his cousin's situation onto Carter. Still, he had been approached about a serious situation and was required to investigate. "Ok, I'll check it out, Sherman. Thanks for coming to me."

The man looked relieved. "Thanks for listening, sir. I hope I'm wrong." He rose to leave, stopping halfway out the door. "Oh, and sir?"

"Yes?" Jack asked warily.

"I had to have an excuse to see you, sir. So I… hit your car in the parking lot."

The Colonel stared at him in dismay.

"I'll pay for the damage, sir, of course, sir," he added hastily. "I just had to have an excuse to see you."

"Why? My door is always open to anyone."

"You're second in command of the whole base. People notice who you're talking to. By this afternoon, my CO will be asking me if I was going over his head about something. That won't be so bad, but if Hanson thinks I was here to talk about Captain Carter…" He didn't finish that thought. "It's better that I had something to talk to you-the-person about rather than you-the-Colonel. No one would expect me to go through channels about a fender-bender."

Jack sighed and nodded. "Ok, thanks."

"I hope I'm wrong, sir," he said as he left.

oOo

Jack waited a while, thinking things through, before he went to see Carter. If Sherman was right, he couldn't go rushing over there. Even if Sherman was only right about people watching him that closely. He had had no idea that anyone cared who he talked to or who was in his office.

It couldn't be true. Could it? If Jonas Hanson attacked Carter, why hadn't she reported it? Maybe she had already taught him a lesson and didn't want to take it any further? Not likely; assaulting a fellow officer was a serious offense, and Carter was never one to flout the regs. Maybe Hanson had told the truth? Maybe the pair of them just liked rough sex? He hadn't thought Carter was that type. He'd thought she would be … well, never mind what he'd thought about her. That wasn't the point. He found himself hoping that Carter had trounced Hanson badly enough that she decided to forgo reporting it. It was by far the top pick of his three choices. Or maybe she was the instigator?

He decided to do a little checking before visiting Carter.

Hanson had an iron-clad, or maybe he should say gauze-clad, alibi. Jack shook his head; he had to have a talk with Siler about that ridiculous overgrown wrench. Siler and Hanson had spent the entire weekend in the infirmary following a wrench-wreck on Friday. After reading the details, Jack could understand why Hanson had made up a cover story, although his specific choice was stupid and demeaning to Carter. If the jerk really cared about her, he would have thought of something else.

Jerk or not, he could not have touched Carter over the weekend. So what had happened to her? Maybe Sherman was wrong. Maybe nothing at all had happened. Or something innocent, like a roller-blading accident. That was probably it; he'd go check on her to be sure, but it would turn out to be just an awful misunderstanding.

oOo

"Morning." He noticed how her head snapped up in surprise; it looked beyond startled, more defensive. Then, with a bit of pleasure, he saw her relax and smile when she recognized him in the doorway. "Did I startle you?" He glanced around the lab, relieved to find that she was alone.

Jonas Hanson hadn't hurt her this weekend, but someone or something definitely had. He could see it now; the evidence was all over her. He would have seen it before if he had been paying attention. But they weren't prisoners being interrogated by some Goa'uld, you weren't supposed to have to watch your team for injuries on your own home base, for crying out loud!

"Maybe a little, sir. I was concentrating on the computer when you came in."

"Kinda hot for a sweater, isn't it?" He noticed the beads of sweat at her temples. Could see just the edge of a green-black bruise over the top of the high-neck shirt. "At least roll up your sleeves." She wasn't wearing her watch, either. The one Jacob had given her, the one she always wore.

"I'm fine, sir," she sat up straighter and he could see the stiffness in the motion. She tried to change the subject. "Did you need something?"

He sat down and looked her in the eye. "I need to know what happened to you this weekend."

She wasn't expecting that. "What do you mean?" Her eyes widened, their focus swinging rapidly around as if searching for the answer somewhere else in the room. If he had needed any further confirmation, that was it.

"You can't hide it from me, Carter. I know you too well." Well, Sherman might say otherwise, but he probably wouldn't. And he needed her to open up.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

He sighed. "Nice lipstick, Captain. But it doesn't quite cover up the scabs from biting your lip."

She reflexively pulled her lips in.

"And I can see a bruise on your neck."

Another direct hit, her hand went right to the spot.

"And your wrist."

She looked down; both wrists were fully covered. She held them up, challenging his assertion.

"No watch. You always wear that watch. Roll up your sleeves and show me I'm wrong."

She dropped her head into her hands and his last faint hope of discovering another innocent accident evaporated.

"Carter, what happened?" He felt righteous anger building; he wanted to find the person who had left her in this state. Find him, and hurt him.

After a moment, she sighed, raised her head. "I'd rather not discuss it, if it's all the same to you, sir."

"It's not all the same to me, Carter. What happened?"

"It's… personal, sir."

"Carter," he said again, more gently. "Sam. You're hurt, and I want to know why. I need to know that you're ok."

"I'm fine, sir. Just some bruises and stuff. I don't want to talk about it."

"Is it because you started the fight?" She looked startled; that wasn't it. He had wanted that to be it. Maybe one more try. "You know I won't rat on you, Carter. Everyone slips up once in a while. If you beat the crap out of someone.. . "

"That's not it, sir. I didn't start anything." She saw him deflate a bit, then take that tiny nip at his lower lip that meant he was thinking something. Something he didn't like.

Second choice, then. He looked at her sideways, almost wincing. "You don't…. like….that sort of thing…?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't want it to be true, but it was still better than what was behind door number three.

"Of course not!"

Crap. Door number three it was. But it didn't make sense. She was a strong, confident woman. Why would she let someone hurt her? "If you didn't start it, and you didn't want it, then why didn't you report it?"

She didn't answer.

"What does he have on you?" That had to be it. He had threatened her with something bad enough to convince her not to report him.

"Nothing. It's not like that at all. It's just…"

He leaned closer, eager to hear the answer to the riddle.

She stopped mid-sentence. "I don't want to talk about it, sir."

"Carter," he said gently. "Let me help."

"I don't want you to help, sir."

"Carter…"

"I appreciate your concern, sir. But I'm fine. I can handle this."

"I can send you to the infirmary and let Fraser see how well you're handling it," he threatened.

"All she'll find is some bruises. Nothing to keep me from working," she said defiantly.

"Carter…"

"I don't want to talk about it!" she repeated more forcefully. "And you can't make me tell you, Colonel," she emphasized the word a bit, hating to do this but determined not to talk.

"If personal issues affect a subordinate's performance, then a superior officer can demand answers, Captain." He could play the military game as well as she. Better, this time around, as he had the stronger tactical position.

"_If_ there is evidence that the personal issues have or are likely to impact the subordinate's performance. You have no such evidence," she countered.

She had him there. He stood up. "You are confined to base, Captain, until further notice." He couldn't beat the information out of her, but he would damn well do his best to keep anyone else from beating her at all.

"What? You can't do that!"

"I just did. Unless you want to tell me what's going on?"

"You have no reason. I'll go to the General."

"Suit yourself. If you'd rather explain it to him, that's fine with me."

She sat back and crossed her arms defiantly.

He smiled tightly at her. "I hear the cafeteria special tonight is meat loaf. Enjoy."

She hated their meatloaf. And he knew it.

oOo

Jack walked calmly back to his office and closed the door. Hard enough for the hinges to rattle.

Carter hadn't had an accident. The behavior didn't fit, even if it were as embarrassing as Jonas' own misadventure. The injuries didn't fit either. You didn't fall down and hit your neck and wrists. And you didn't go so far to cover up accidental injuries.

Someone had hurt her.

And she let them.

God, why? Why would she ever do that? Who, on Earth or any other planet, would she protect this way?

oOo

NEXT: Jack pressures Carter to explain


	2. Plan A And B And C, D, E, F

Details, part 2: Plan A. And B. C, D, E, F…. 

Jack kicked his trash can across the office, its clatter the only satisfying response he'd had since leaving Carter's lab. His subtle inquiries had all been in vain.

He had no clues. Of any kind. Nothing to even hint as to how Carter had been hurt, or what she was covering up. Jonas Hanson was the obvious candidate, but he had an air-tight alibi. Jack had seen to it that Hanson was assigned plenty of overtime, partially as payback for the offensive excuse, but also to keep him on base as a backup line of defense for Carter. Even a jerk could usually be counted upon to protect his girlfriend if she were assaulted.

That still left the question of what had happened over the weekend. He resolved to stop by her house tonight, collect the mail, and chat with the neighbors to ask what they had seen her – or any visitors – doing the last few days. Beyond that, it was going to be difficult to piece it together without becoming obvious. He wanted to keep it covert for now. You didn't tip off the bad guys before you knew who they were.

The ultimate source of information was Carter herself. He'd put a little more friendly pressure on her to talk. He gave some thought to how to encourage her to talk, or distract her enough to let something slip.

Always start with the simple things, his father used to say. The way to a captain's confession might just be through her stomach. Being friendly with the cafeteria staff proved to be handy for more than just getting the cleaner forks. They happily agreed to fulfill his request for their 'famous' macaroni-and-cheese the following day. Carter hated that stuff almost as much as the meat loaf. And, sad to say, the salad bar was ruined when someone stumbled into its portable cart and knocked it over. They really should make those things sturdier, he thought to himself. It could take weeks to repair, especially if the request form somehow got 'lost' in the system.

Oddly enough, by that evening even the vending machines were out of her favorite items and seemed to be chock full of gummy worms, jujubes, and other rubbery things she found revolting.

oOo

Day 2: Fact Finding Mission

He stopped by her lab the next morning, ostensibly to see her, but knowing she was involved in a meeting elsewhere. He could hardly expect Carter to stand by while he pumped her assistants for information. She was up to three now, and the trio couldn't be more different.

Fenton was a hot-tempered little scrapper who wouldn't take crap from anyone. Jack suspected that it came, at least in part, from fighting her way through technical schools and the Air Force. Or maybe it was the other way around and her temperament helped her make it through. Majors was the tall, dark, silent type. Literally. The family man worked hard but spoke little, and Jack didn't know that much about him. Even his desk was unadorned save for the photo of three smiling boys saluting their father. The effervescent Cooper rounded out the bunch. She and Fenton were in the lab and looked up as he entered.

Cooper smiled radiantly at him, as she always did. She seemed genuinely pleased to see nearly everyone she encountered, and was always upbeat and optimistic. Joyful, that was the word. She was Joy Incarnate. It wasn't even irritating, as none of it ever seemed forced or facetious. He wished they could all be so blessed.

"Cooper. Fenton." He acknowledged them both.

"Good morning, Colonel," Cooper beamed. She couldn't have looked happier if he was Santa Claus. Fenton sported that semi-suspicious, semi-curious expression people got when superiors dropped by unexpectedly.

He glanced around the room, and Cooper guessed his thought. "Captain Carter is in a meeting, sir. We don't expect her back till after lunch. Is there anything we can help you with?"

"I'll catch up with her later. What are you working on?" He said it casually, as if being polite. He listened to the nineteen-syllable words in the answer as he surreptitiously checked for clues to the Carter mystery.

When he realized that she had finished, he asked Fenton the same question, and received a similar mind-numbing answer. And still didn't pick up any clues. A little chatter about current events in lab-life was no more fruitful. Eventually, he ran out of casual-sounding questions.

"Carry on. I'll just leave Carter a note."

He wandered over to her desk and fished about for a sticky note… and any other notes she may have left lying around. Nothing seemed of interest - all technical mumbo-jumbo; nothing to get excited about, let alone beaten up over. He was writing his 'come see me when you have a minute' message when the phone rang.

Cooper answered, her face instantly becoming serious. She spoke quietly, too quietly for him to hear from Carter's desk, then hung up and turned glumly back to her computer.

"Cooper?"

She looked up soberly. "Yes, sir?"

"Everything ok?"

"Yes, sir." She smiled, a wan echo of her original welcoming grin. She didn't so much as meet his eyes, looking instead somewhere in the neighborhood of his chin. He didn't say anything else, and she turned again to her computer.

He stuck his note to Carter's monitor, then wandered back over to Fenton to look at more of the pretty-colored patterns of gibberish on her screen. "What was that all about?" he asked quietly, indicating Cooper, hoping he had found a clue at last.

Fenton glanced at her coworker and shrugged. "Husband. She gets like that sometimes after he calls. She'll be ok in a little while."

Rats. Not the last-minute-perfectly-timed clue like they always got on TV. The whole fact-finding mission was a bust, then.

He knocked the table as he turned to leave, bumping one of the objects on it in the process. The solid-looking object, which resembled a 3-D replica of the patterns Fenton had on her screen, turned out to be a construction of dozens of small pieces. They clattered to the ground with a sound like rain on a tin roof.

Jack and Fenton stared at the colorful pile in equal dismay.

"Sorry," he said, bending to pick them up.

"Careful, sir, they're…fragile."

He stopped touching them, sheepishly offering her the bits of the one he had just inadvertently broken. She set them on the table and bent to carefully pick at the rest.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jack felt bad about the…whatever it was. It looked complicated.

"You've done enough already, sir." She paused, looking up at him uncertainly. Ok, it wasn't the way to address a superior officer, but she'd be pretty damn pissed if she got in trouble after he messed up her stuff!

"Understood, lieutenant," he said quietly, a half smile showing that he did understand and mutely repeating his apology.

oOo

Day 3: Hot Button

The lab door was propped open the next afternoon when Jack came to visit. He stepped inside, automatically fanning himself as the heat rose a solid twenty degrees. He almost felt guilty as he looked around the room.

Sweat stains were clearly visible on Fenton's t-shirt despite the fact that a fan stood on the table not two feet from her. Her dark hair stood out from her head as if it, too, were trying to escape the heat. Majors, without benefit of a fan, resembled the guys in the Gatorade commercials, with beads of perspiration lining his smooth mahogany skin and pasting his tank top to his muscular chest. The pair looked wearily up at him

Cooper, as always, smiled happily at the newcomer, transforming the sweat on her face into a glow. Didn't anything get her down? She'd combed her pale locks to one side, slicking her usual curls into a smooth 'wet' look. Even the sweater she wore in apparent solidarity with Carter didn't faze her. Carter herself was out of sight, working on something under a bench from the sound of it.

"Anything we can do for you, sir?" Majors asked, clearly hoping for some errand that would take him out of this sweat shop.

Fenton jumped on the bandwagon. "You were asking about my simulation software the other day, sir. I'd be happy to show you how to use it on your computer." _In your nice gotta-be-cooler-than-this office_, she finished silently.

Carter's head popped up over one of the benches. Her hair was plastered to her head, and rivulets of sweat rolled down her neck and into the sweater she still wore to cover the half-healed bruises. Her eyes looked shockingly hollow and he was concerned until he realized that her mascara was just not quite as waterproof as she thought it was.

He shook his head in answer to Fenton and Majors. "Anything to report, Carter?" he asked innocently, head cocked to one side.

She sighed. "No, sir."

oOo

Day 4: A Man or a Mouse

Jack lounged against the doorjamb, watching the activity in the lab with amusement. Carter dove towards him suddenly, landing with her outstretched hands barely touching his boots.

"Carter, please!" he teased. "People will talk."

She half-suppressed a glare as she levered herself up to her knees before him, hampered by the unavailability of her hands. "Sir," she said stiffly.

"Don't worry about it, Carter. Women throw themselves at my feet all the time. Just not usually on base." He hadn't moved from where he lounged in the doorway.

She clambered to her feet, taking a careful peek at what she now held in her hands. "Not this time, sir." She shifted her grip and showed him the mouse. "This one's a male. Maybe your animal magnetism has the wrong polarity."

Damn it! He should know better than to engage in a battle of words with a freaking scientist. He hesitated, trying to form a good comeback.

Saved by the belle.

Fenton asked him to move so she could pass by with another rodent. "This little guy almost made it to the elevator. And they said these things weren't intelligent!"

Cooper, over by the half-filled cage, smiled sadly and stroked her mouse. "Wish I could tell you everything's going to be alright, buddy." It tried to escape up her arm. She caught it gently and stroked it again before putting it in the cage. "I feel for you, but you don't have a choice. At least you'll be suffering for your country." She closed the little door, trapping him inside with the others.

"Did you need something, sir?" Carter asked Jack as Cooper took the mouse from her hands.

"You know what I need, Carter," he said seriously.

"Sorry, sir. Too busy just now. Somehow, thirty mice escaped from the biolab next door. We've only caught nineteen so far. I don't suppose you'd care to help?"

"Happy to, Carter."

She brightened, surprised that he was going to help clean up the mess he had surely created.

He smiled sweetly at her. "Mice like cheese. I'll ask the dining hall to whip up some more of their famous macaroni and cheese."

oOo

Day 5: Water Park

Jack paused, frowning at the sandbags before stepping over them and into the two inches of water in the lab. His jaw dropped slightly as he looked around at the crew busily undoing the damage. Several were sucking water up off the floor with shop-vacs. Others were more carefully drying out equipment, supervised by the ever-cheerful Cooper.

Carter, Majors, and Fenton had the highest security clearance and were going through sodden paperwork, deciding what could be saved and how to dispose of what could not. Illegible sheets were piling up in a large plastic trash bag. Ruined, but still legible, documents would be a problem; standard procedure would be to burn them but nothing in this soggy room was likely to burn any time soon.

"Did someone leave a window open?"

Carter turned to him, lips pursed as she forced herself to consider her words before speaking. "The sprinkler system went off. Sir."

He hadn't engineered this, but he didn't bother to deny it; given the past few days, she'd never believe him anyway. He peeled a waterlogged manila folder off of a bench and held it up. "Sure works well," he commented wryly as the folder sagged and drops of water began forming their own little waterfall to add to the mess on the floor.

He didn't miss the angry exhale from his second. If they were alone, she'd probably be giving him an earful, regardless of rank. Well, Jack O'Neill was not one to cower in the face of danger. He fiddled with the wet folder, crushing it in his hands then molding it like papier-mâché into the form of an animal. He set it proudly on the table, earning an appreciative smirk from Majors.

"It was running since 11:30 last night, sir."

His eyes widened in surprise and she tensed in fury. As if he didn't know!

Fenton shot her a nervous glance, switched to the Colonel, and back to Carter. Jack noticed, and wondered if Carter was going to lose her temper despite the witnesses. Maybe if she did, she'd also let on something about who had hurt her.

"Any idea what set it off?" He casually rolled up a pair of damp sticky notes and put jaunty yellow 'ears' on his animal. Actually, he probably _had_ done this, albeit unintentionally. He must have touched it off when he installed the two new, hidden, security cameras in the lab last night.

"Yes, sir. _Somehow_," she glared right at him as she icily emphasized the word, "two tiles from the dropped ceiling fell last night. The first one _happened_," again the emphasis, "to be in front of the security camera. The second hit the manual 'test' button on the sprinkler."

"What a rotten coincidence," he commented, sounding innocent and surprised. The first tile was his doing. The second must have come down after he left. He found a blue formerly-sticky note and made a tail for his animal. He smirked at her over the little beast's back. "Science still can't beat Murphy's Law!"

He thought for a moment that she might actually leap across the table and try to hurt him. Jack reached out and bent the blue tail, giving it a saucy little curve and giving himself a reason to have his hands already out in front, just in case. _Come on, Carter_, he silently encouraged. _Lose your temper. Yell me a hint_.

She controlled herself with obvious difficulty. "If you don't mind, sir, we need to get back to work."

Rats. No clues today. "All right. Want me to send you any more help?"

"No, sir. I think you've done enough already."

Fenton glanced quickly at the Colonel, wondering how he would react to the repeat of her own comment from a few days before.

"I haven't done anything," he replied, eyes on hers.

She took the modest demurral for the threat it was, but didn't answer.

He rolled one last sticky note into a sphere and set it in front of his animal, as if it were playing with it. "Have a ball!"

oOo

Jack stopped by again after lunch, bringing Teal'c with him. The big guy was Carter's teammate and friend, Jack told himself, and he'd want to check on her. Asking him along had nothing to do with facing an already pissed-off Carter right after yet another meat-loaf lunch. Nothing at all.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Carter in the dining hall. Fenton had been there, and Majors, and several of the others he'd seen in the lab that morning. But not Carter. Or Cooper, for that matter. He wondered if the captain had sent the lieutenant out for real food; she'd be the logical choice as she wouldn't object to being sent on trivial errands. It had worked in his favor, though, since Teal'c had noticed Carter's absence and commented upon it. Which gave him the perfect opening to invite him along to check on the situation in the lab.

The scene had improved greatly over the last few hours. The sandbags were gone, as the flood they were holding back was reduced to wet floors and the occasional puddle. There was nary a paper to be seen, so presumably they had made it through that job as well.

Carter and her assistants were still working on the equipment. Things were opened up with parts strewn across every horizontal surface. It looked like a huge, high-tech jigsaw puzzle.

"Carter? How's it going?"

She looked tired and damp, but still in a better mood than when he saw her last. "Making progress, sir." She swiped a hand through her hair, spiking it further. Clearly not the first time today that she'd done that.

"Was there much damage?"

"Surprisingly not. A lot of ruined papers, but most can be re-printed. We catalogued what we lost. A lot of the equipment had been covered up yesterday."

Cooper smiled happily. "Guess the mice turned out to be lucky! We closed or covered all the lower equipment to keep them out and it kept the water out, too."

"We still have to finish checking out all the equipment that wasn't on the floors," Carter pointed out, not about to let her CO off easily. "I'll be here half the night."

"Can I be of assistance, Captain Carter?" Teal'c offered.

"Cooper will be better help. But thanks." She glanced at the other woman, receiving an automatic nod of agreement.

He inclined his head at her and her just-drafted assistant. The lieutenant didn't seem to mind the extra work.

oOo

"Let's call it a night," Carter suggested. They were both tired. Jonas would finish his double-shift soon, and they could share some rubbery cafeteria food and commiserate. Her assistant had company to look forward to, too.

"There's just these two left. I can finish them up," Cooper offered.

Stifling a yawn, and well aware that the Colonel was not here to feel guilty, Carter demurred. "They can wait till morning. Get on out of here."

"It's no problem, really." The lieutenant fumbled with the screws holding the shielding on a machine.

"Go home, Cooper. Bob's waiting for you."

The shielding plate crashed to the floor. Carter felt a twinge of guilt herself as the plate slipped back to the floor with another crescendo. The junior officer's hands were shaking. The woman must be exhausted. She took the plate gently from her. "Go home, Cooper," she said firmly. "Now."

oOo

Days 6 through 9: Out of this World

Jack allowed Carter to leave the base to take part in SG-1's scheduled mission. She noticed that he was suspiciously absent from the camp when it was discovered that all of their MRE's were macaroni. And that the chocolate bars they usually carried had been replaced with jujubes.

When they returned, even Daniel was ready for a break from macaroni, though that was his favorite MRE. He suggested they go out for steaks, enticing them with tempting detailed descriptions.

Jack cocked an eye at an obviously drooling Carter, hoping she'd break and tell him what was going on.

She glared defiantly back.

He shrugged. "Maybe we should stay here and eat with Carter," he suggested to the team.

She looked pleasantly surprised at the idea. "What's the cafeteria serving?" He checked the notice on the bulletin board. "Macaroni."

Daniel looked queasy, weighing loyalty to his friend against several days of nothing but macaroni for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He'd been desperate enough at one point to try mixing the jujubes in, just to make it different. It hadn't helped.

Tealc looked ready to throw himself onto yet another bowl of noodles if the sacrifice was truly necessary, but didn't say anything; no doubt hoping one of the others would save him from that cruel fate.

Jack himself was ready to hurl at the very word 'macaroni.' And, he reminded himself, this was her doing, not his. "Sorry, Captain. I just can't face more noodles right now without a damn good reason."

Teal'c and Daniel looked relieved.

oOo

"Thought you would have fixed that dent by now, Jack," Daniel commented as he got into the car. He knew how meticulous Jack was about his truck.

Jack shrugged. "I'll get around to it." In fact, he thought to himself, he might never fix it. A little reminder to watch out for his team at all times, in all places.

oOo

Day 10: She Slipped on a Bar of Soap. Honest.

"Hey, Cooper, want a Whopper? Burger King is doing two-for-one." Majors offered the paper bag to his coworker.

"No, they're no—hey!" Fenton bristled instantly; no one stopped _her_ from talking! She moved close to Majors, waving a finger right in his face.

He pushed the offending arm away from him, and Fenton automatically countered, swiveling her arm around under his to strike the inside of his bicep.

Majors didn't want a fight. He knew his hot-headed coworker just needed a moment for her temper to cool; he shoved with both hands, intending to make some distance between them and hopefully allow for some time to defuse this stupid situation. Cooper had the same idea of separating the two, the action landing her between them just in time to take the hit instead of Fenton.

"Hey!"

All three startled at the angry bellow and turned to face the trio in the doorway. Captain Carter, Teal'c, and Colonel O'Neill. O'Neill had done the yelling, to get their attention, and was probably about to do a lot more judging by the thunderous look on his face.

"Did I just see you strike a fellow officer?" Jack demanded, advancing on Majors. Carter and Teal'c trailed behind him.

"No, sir," Cooper answered for him. "He slipped."

Jack shook his head. He knew the military standard cover-up when he heard it, and was actually pleased to hear that they would stand together even through their dispute. He would have gone along with it if he could. "Can't accept that, lieutenant. I saw him strike you."

She started to say something else, pausing at his warning glance. She seemed to deflate a bit, then straightened back up. "Majors was struck first, sir. What you saw was him responding to that." She thrust her chin out defiantly at his considering look. "That's the God's honest truth, sir. Ask anyone."

He glanced at the other two, who reluctantly nodded. Fair enough, then. But he had no choice but to act on what he had seen. "Confined to quarters for forty-eight hours, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." She turned to her computer, logging off in preparation to leave. She paused momentarily, as if realizing something, then smiled brilliantly at him. "Thank you, sir!" She headed toward the door with a spring in her step.

"Cooper."

She turned at his call, still smiling.

"Don't take it so hard."

The grin broadened and she saluted. "Yes, sir!" She turned smartly and marched out of sight.

Jack shook his head and turned to the remaining pair in feigned seriousness. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

They smiled at him and he knew the message was heard; he had to act on what he saw but otherwise he was supporting them keeping it between themselves. Now if only a certain Captain would understand him, too, and tell him what the heck was going on…

oOo

Jack and Teal'c crowded around Jack's PC, watching the security tapes of the lab. Majors walking in, offering a bag to Cooper, then kicking Fenton lightly. Fenton responding to Majors, with Cooper jumping between and being struck. A trivial incident, really, not unusual among a bunch of energetic and stressed individuals. Would never have been reported if senior officers hadn't seen it. Only one thing puzzled Jack.

"So why did she say she hit Majors?"

"She did not."

"You heard her," Jack reminded him.

"She said that Majors was struck first, as indeed he was. It is we who assumed that she was the instigator."

"She wanted us to think that."

Teal'c inclined his head in agreement.

"But why?" Jack considered his own question. His already-suspicious mind pointed out an unpleasant similarity. Two attacks, albeit of different intensity. Two women, both covering for the attacker. One lab. He decided not to share his concerns, on the chance that they really were coincidence. "Nice of her to take the fall for her buddies."

"Indeed," Teal'c concurred, narrowed eyes showing that he, too, was contemplating something.

Neither voiced his thoughts aloud.

oOo

Day 11: Straight Up

Jack stopped at Carter's lab in the afternoon, as was becoming his habit. Maybe today would be the day she'd answer his question. He paused in the doorway, as yet unnoticed by the occupants. The lab was quietly busy, as always. The younger officers were working on various tasks, and Carter was at her computer. As he watched, she struggled stiffly to her feet and he felt a pang of guilt at being the cause of her discomfort. She stretched luxuriously and he waited, enjoying the view – hey, he was a guy after all. No harm done as long as he didn't act on it. Or get caught. That thought got him moving, even as she sat back down.

She stood again when he approached.

"At ease, Carter." His eyes twinkled, but he managed not to smirk.

She hadn't been intending to come to attention, just to stand up and ease her aching back, but she couldn't say that. "Thank you, sir," she responded, baring her teeth in a semblance of a smile. She sat back down, carefully.

"Something wrong with your chair?" He was all innocence and concern.

"Not at all. I'm using it to improve my posture. Works wonders, sir." She smiled at him deliberately. "You ought to try it."

He straightened up automatically at the jibe, then smiled smugly. "Never had that problem myself, Carter. But I hope it works for you."

"Did you need something, sir?" she asked tiredly, not bothering to make another snippy comment.

"You know what I'm here for, Carter," he said meaningfully. _I'm here to get an answer. I'm here to protect you. I'm here to confide in and console._

She still wasn't ready to give in. Stubborn people could be so annoying.

oOo

Day 12: Suspicious Minds Want to Know

Carter walked into the lab and Lieutenant Majors snapped to attention. She looked at him suspiciously. They were lax on formality here, especially on the afternoon shift since there were rarely visitors to keep up appearances for, and he had not saluted her since the first day he reported for duty. Had she just walked in on something?

"Majors. What's up?" she asked, unconsciously sounding like her own CO.

"Nothing, ma'am!" he answered smartly, still at attention, still staring straight ahead. "Er, sir!" he amended hastily, switching to the salutation now considered gender-neutral by the military. "Nothing, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir," he dropped into the parade rest stance, looking anything but at ease. What had she interrupted?

She looked warily around the room, checking for further 'encouragement' from the Colonel. Quizzed the junior officer on his work until she was sure he had indeed been working. Which is what she'd normally expect from the quiet, intense lieutenant.

"Has Colonel O'Neill been here?"

The lieutenant's eyes bugged out. "Sir, yes, sir!" he barked, moving back to attention. Oh, boy, had he been here. Majors swallowed as he recalled the Colonel's very explicit warning that there had better not be the slightest hint of impropriety among lab personnel. And doubly so with the Colonel's own team. Or else.

Her eyes narrowed. "What did he touch?"

"Nothing, sir!"

"Did he leave me a message?"

"No, sir!"

"And you're sure he didn't touch anything?"

"Yes, sir!"

She considered. "Did he order you to do anything?"

"No, sir!"

"So why are you so tense?

"I'm sorry, sir!" he barked.

She walked toward him, watching him closely. "Majors, what's wrong?"

She reached out a hand to touch his arm and he nearly hyper-ventilated.

"Nothing, sir! Nothing! I… I … I don't feel well, sir. Permission to go to the infirmary, sir?"

He wanted out of the lab. Very badly. After the Colonel had stopped by. Damn it, what did Jack do?

"Please, sir! Permission to go to the infirmary?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. Whatever the Colonel had done had scared the crap out of Majors. She decided she needed a reason to be elsewhere when whatever happened happened. "I'll take you. Come on." She pulled on his sleeve gently.

"Sir! I can walk unassisted, sir!" He edged away so that the cloth of his shirt was stretched between her fingers and his arm, but didn't actually pull it away from her. He stared at their arms, frantically trying to decide which was less likely to count as an impropriety: having physical contact or resisting a superior officer to the trivial degree of freeing his sleeve.

She released him and he looked somewhat relieved. He marched silently to the infirmary, looking like he was heading for a firing squad. She turned him over to Janet, and borrowed the doctor's office.

She was still watching the security cameras in her lab when Janet returned. "How's Majors?" she asked, not raising her eyes from the picture of the placid lab.

"He'll be fine. I'm sending him home, though."

"So he really was sick?"

"You sound glad to hear it!"

She looked sheepish. "Well…. He said the Colonel had been in the lab, and I thought that he did something. The Colonel, that is."

Janet pursed her lips, wondering if the Colonel had indeed done something. Majors had had a panic attack, though he swore nothing had instigated it.

oOo

Day 13: Hits the Spot

Carter looked up as someone entered the lab. So far, today had been a good day. If there was a prank, she hadn't found it yet. And Cooper was back from her confinement, bringing her staffing back to full force and making everyone's day easier.

Teal'c approached, offering her a small white-wrapped package from which a heavenly odor emanated.

"For me?" She hardly dared to hope.

"Indeed. I have discovered a new delicacy. It is called 'stromboli,' but it is only served in large portions. I thought you might enjoy the remaining half."

"Oh, yeah," she said with relish, her mouth already watering. Real food! Something that actually required _teeth_ to eat. She unwrapped the package, revealing flaky pastry crust and intensifying the delicious smell. Licking her lips and lifting it up, she could see meat and vegetables rolled inside, with a trail of hot, melted cheese making its way down… to the mushroom.

She felt like crying.

A big honking mushroom stuck out at her like an ugly gray tongue. Another lurked behind it, half-hidden by a piece of broccoli. And another, up to the left near the warm meat and dripping cheese.

"Is something wrong?" Teal'c inquired.

"I'm allergic to mushrooms…" She stared disconsolately at the sandwich, tempted to eat it anyway and let Janet shove a tube down her throat to let her breathe. Maybe if she ate it _in_ the infirmary…

The choice, and the stromboli, were taken from her by her solicitous teammate. She watched resentfully as Teal'c casually offered it to Cooper. The lieutenant scarfed three huge bites down before she had the decency to turn away.

Teal'c apologized for the mistake, and she forgave him, but still…

The day went downhill from there.

Teal'c found the lab very busy when he returned later with O'Neill. Carter and her three assistants were all busily typing away on their computers. They all looked up, Cooper flashing a brief welcoming smile, before the lieutenants turned back to their screens.

"What's not up?" Jack asked brightly.

As if he didn't know.

"We had a power outage this morning, sir. We're checking the files and recovering data."

"Bad luck," he commiserated.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Anything else to report?"

"No, sir. We'll be fine. Cooper can finish it tonight." Carter looked smugly at her superior; his little trick of the day wasn't going to affect her! She hadn't actually asked, but Cooper was always willing. And if not, they could sort it out later.

They both glanced at Cooper, who smiled brightly, as always.

Carter smiled back, gratefully at her, then smugly again at her own CO. No overtime tonight! Ha! Although… it wasn't a whole lot better to sit in her quarters since the electricity had gone on the fritz. She had ventilation and enough light to move around, but not enough for laptop, reading, or television. Maybe she'd hang out with Jonas while he worked his overtime shift.

"Were you not freed from confinement just this morning?" Teal'c inquired, knowing the answer but wondering why she would accept the additional responsibility.

"Well… Fenton and Majors have had to do my job for the past two days. And I won't have to stay very late."

oOo

Day 14: Squeezing It Out

Carter entered her lab with trepidation, relieved to find that nothing was dramatically wrong. Reasonable temperature, no living things other than her trio of lieutenants. Fenton said good morning. Cooper beamed. Majors nodded formally.

Ok, so she still hadn't figured out what was up with him yet. She might never know. He had refused to discuss it, and had become so reserved and proper that she was afraid she'd be losing him to another lab where he could relax.

"How'd the file recovery go, Cooper?"

"All present and accounted for after a lovely evening," she answered cheerily.

Fenton rolled her eyes. "I should have stayed to do it. Ended up shopping for flooring. Who knew there were 82 kinds of wood and twelve thousand carpets?" She glanced over at Majors. "What do you have?"

The father of three little boys chuckled, the first humor he'd displayed since his panic attack. "My floor covering? Lego and little green army men!"

Fenton bit her lip and tried to suppress a snicker.

Cooper slugged her unmarried coworker gently on the arm. "Get your mind out of the gutter!"

Carter glanced over at them.

Cooper smirked. "Fenton would love to have her floor covered with little army men!"

Fenton gave up the innocent act and grinned wickedly. "Not _little_ ones..."

Carter snickered and Cooper shook her head. Majors said nothing, turning back to his work. The others followed suit. Carter settled herself at her computer. It was a quiet morning until Teal'c arrived, bearing donuts.

"I wish to atone for my previous error." He smiled slightly – a wide grin for him – and gifted her with a big white box.

"You didn't need to do that," Carter demurred, even as she reached for the box. "But thanks!"

She grinned at him, then opened the box and checked out the goodies. All gooey types, filled with cream or jelly. None of the glazed or plain kind she preferred. Still the best thing she'd had in days. She took a donut, waving the others to join her.

Teal'c helped himself, and Majors wasn't far behind. Cooper took hers next, happily thanking Teal'c for bringing her favorite, Boston Cream. She gasped sharply as Fenton pushed past on the way to the donuts.

Everyone looked at her.

Cooper grinned, licking her lips. "I love cream-filled donuts!" She lifted it with almost painful slowness, closing her eyes in pleasure as she extracted a bit more of the cream. "Sq-ww-ish!"

Carter set her donut down, grabbed some papers from her drawer, and stalked out of the room without a word. She stormed straight into O'Neill's office. Enough was enough.

Next: Too Late The Hero


	3. Too Late the Hero

Details, part 3: Too Late The Hero 

The document in her hand screamed its title at him. _Request for Transfer_. And she wouldn't explain until and unless he signed them.

He had to convince her to stay. He had to get this exactly right. Which was doubly hard, since all his supposed understanding of her was right out the window.

"Carter…" he began.

"Sign them first, sir," she repeated. "Then I'll explain everything."

"There has to be another way."

"I've been thinking a lot about this, sir. It's the only way. Please sign them."

"Look, Carter…" He stood up, feeling like he shouldn't be behind his desk at a time like this. But now he was standing over her. Not good, either. He perched on the edge of his desk, his head now just below hers as she stood there.

"Carter… I've been hard on you, and I'm sorry." If he had to eat some crow to keep her, then bring it on. Crow a la mode, with whipped cream and a cherry, if that's what it took. There had to be some way to appease her, to keep her both here and safe.

She looked surprised. Jack O'Neill did not apologize often.

"If I went too far, it's just because I care about you." She was staring at him. This was not going well. It _had_ to go well. He had to _Make_ it go well. "I mean, not like that, you know…" he twisted a pencil in his fingers. "I mean… I just…"

_You just sound like an idiot, Jack!_ He yelled at himself in his thoughts. _Just take a deep breath and say it. Is that really so hard? Harder than losing her? Losing part of the magic that was SG-1?_ He took his own advice, and a deep breath.

"Carter, I care about the people on my team. It makes me crazy that someone hurt you and you didn't stop them. Crazy enough to do everything else I did. It was to protect you. Do you know I've been on base the whole time, too? Watching your six."

She was open mouthed, still staring.

He leaned forward, putting one hand gently on her arm, imploring her. "Talk to me, Carter. If this guy has something over you, tell me. Or just tell me who he is, and I'll get you something to hold over him. We can work this out. We're a good team. I want us to _stay_ a team."

"Sir…" she moved the papers a bit, crinkling them as she held them toward him again.

Damn. Still not good enough. "Carter, we're a good team, SG-1. A lucky team." Military people, even Carter, never discounted luck on the battlefield. Whether it came from true happenstance or from a particularly strong combination of team members, the end result was the same. And SG-1 was undeniably lucky; they should have been dead ten times over.

"I want us to stay a team. What can I do, short of _that_," he waved at the papers, "to make you happy?"

oOo

Jack strode toward Carter's lab, anxious to tell her that he'd done his part and to find out if she'd done hers. Well, that wasn't strictly true; he knew she would have. She was finally as eager as he to end this, and the mechanics had already been put into motion. What Jack really wanted now was to be at the lab until the stunning story Carter had told him came to its final conclusion. It shouldn't be necessary, he had no reason to believe there would be any further problems, but a soldier learned never to assume anything.

Jack had already been delayed by the painters on the stairs. Well, it wasn't really their fault, beyond the pointlessness of dumping more grey paint on the already grey stairs, as if anyone cared what color they were. He'd actually been blocked by the painters cleaning up from the last hurrying person taking a header through their precious paint cans and down a flight of stairs a few minutes before. He'd had no choice but to go back up and wait for the elevator to inch its crawling way back down.

He picked up his pace, pulling ahead of Daniel. He knew full well that the archaeologist was accompanying him to be the Voice of Reason in case things got ugly. Fine with him. Jack would be happy to let the Voice of Reason be heard as soon as his own Fist of Warning ensured everyone was safe.

He pushed open the heavy metal door to the lab.

"Hey!" Jack shouted when he saw the officer bent over a limp body. _It couldn't be! After everything they'd been through in the past two weeks, was he just minutes too late on the last day?_

Majors' head whipped up so fast that the breeze moved blonde hair as well as his own brunet. When he saw who was coming at him, he leapt away. "I didn't do it! I swear to God!I didn't!" He dodged back, putting a table between himself and the furious Colonel, then lunged for the panic button, slapping it with all his might and praying help would come before O'Neill killed him. The klaxons blared.

Jack turned a swift 360, scanning the room. Teamwork kicked smoothly in; without a word, he and Daniel split the duty. Jack on defense, Daniel checking the wounded.

Daniel crouched and felt for a pulse on the still-warm neck. His practiced hand found a weak beat racing so fast as to feel like a vibration.

"She's alive," he informed Jack with relief.

Jack glanced at the pair. "Stay with her, Daniel. Majors," he looked up and the petrified man moved further away, arms rising defensively.

SFs swarmed in at that moment, some crouched low, others standing tall, still more waiting in the hall as backup. They swiveled around, weapons half raised, but unsure of the appropriate target. Some pointed at Majors, suspicious of his half-surrendering posture, others pointed away in case some unseen alien enemy had Majors in its sights.

The medical team wasn't far behind security. Jack waved them in.

"Daniel, stay with her," he repeated for their benefit, so the medical team would not try to chase him away. "Majors," all heads turned toward the man, whose arms inched up higher. "You're with me."

Majors closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, only half listening as the Colonel quickly gave orders. Two of the SFs were dispatched to inform security at all exits, the others were sent out to hunt their quarry. Jack waved to Majors to follow him out to join the search.

They walked in relative silence for long minutes, checking and sealing rooms and corridors as they went. Jack deliberately alternated who took point as they entered each new area, even though his hackles raised to know that the man he had threatened was behind him. He suspected that Majors was not especially happy to have Jack at his back, either. Too damn bad for them both; the only way to regain trust was to offer it. He hadn't chosen Majors to accompany him for his good looks. Gradually, their teamwork smoothed out as they made progress without incident.

"Sir…" Majors was ready to try to talk about the situation.

"I was wrong to suspect you, Majors, and I admit it." He didn't say he was sorry, because he wasn't. He'd taken preventive action to defend his own, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"Thank you, sir." The man smiled.

Jack looked at him sideways, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half smile, half warning. "I meant what I said."

Majors' smile wavered.

"We just have to find the right guy to say it to."

As if on cue, a young SF trotted toward Jack, clearly bearing news.

Teal'c had been arrested.

oOo

Next: Janet gives Jack the news


	4. Force of Habit

Details, part 4: Force of Habit 

Jack stood by the bedside, one hand lightly resting on the rail. He looked down at C—'the woman' or 'the patient' – he reminded himself sternly. He always tried to keep his thoughts clinical while he received the initial status of someone's injury, even his own. Much easier to stay calm and professional when you talked about 'a patient' with 'an injury' than a person with a problem. Later, in private, he would let his emotions out. Relief or anger or pity or whatever else might come after getting the news.

"How is she?"

"She'll live." Fraiser pursed her lips. "At least as long as she's in here."

"She's on life support?" Damn. It had looked serious, but he hadn't imagined it was that bad.

"No. But watch this. She has three broken ribs." The doctor reached out and pressed on the unconscious woman's ribcage.

"Hey! Should you --" His hands, reaching out to pull hers back, froze as the patient moved.

Into the touch.

_Toward the pain_.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes. Hear the heart monitor accelerating? Look at the readings -- she's definitely in distress."

"Shouldn't she move _away_?"

"Unless she's been conditioned otherwise."

He gaped at her. That wasn't possible. It just wasn't. How much conditioning would it take to overcome instinctive physical reactions while you were unconscious?

"Wait, there's more. We found this by accident." Fraiser unbuckled her belt and pulled it off.

As the sliding sound ended with a snap, the woman, still unconscious, responded. She uncurled from her semi-fetal position and lay flat, opening her body to attack rather than curling up in defense.

"Another conditioned response."

"Are you sure?"

"Try it yourself." Fraiser had done it three separate times that afternoon, just to prove it wasn't coincidence.

Jack pulled his belt off. At the second repeat of the sound, she reacted again, stretching her hands above her head and crossing her wrists.

Both of the watchers gasped at that. There could be no debate about that pose.

Nor was there any possible misinterpretation of her feelings about what she expected to come next. The monitor fairly screamed out her fear, it's panicky wail and her short ragged breaths belied by the stillness of her body.

After a stunned moment, Janet suddenly shook herself into action, pumping something into the IV. The monitors slowed, the frantic pulsations dropping to an ominous beat.

"How long?" Jack ground out finally, hands clenching the bed rail to steady himself as the horror of the situation sank in. His voice was rough with barely repressed emotion.

"Sir?"

"How….long!" He could barely force the words out. He'd been tortured before, more often than he liked to think about, actually. But even the longest stint, four months of living hell in Iraq, hadn't done this to him. It had done the opposite, in fact; to this day no one dared come near him in his sleep for fear of his violent reaction. Others in his ward at the veteran's hospital had had the opposite reaction; curling up defensively at a too-familiar sound or action. Some would scream, or scrabble fearfully away. Plenty, himself included, would scream when they were yanked from their desperately needed haven of sleep by the brutal memories that went with the sound or touch.

Not one of them, awake or asleep, had ever done this.

The obscenity of it jarred him to the core. That she, that anyone, should be so subjugated as to reflexively open herself to pain, to automatically move to increase it even when unconscious. It was inhuman; the action as well as the person who had ingrained it into her.

How long had she been suffering in silence? And why? What alternative was dire enough to coerce her to go to work every day, spend hours just one step away from safety, and not take the step? She didn't just keep her head down and work, either. She smiled. Made jokes. Helped people. Was that part of the conditioning, too?

Fraiser was answering his question and he tore his mind away from this incomprehensible new reality and tried to listen.

"Well, you could get someone to do it consciously by threatening worse if they refused."

He knew that. Had lived the non-choice of voluntary submission to one pain to avoid another. But that wasn't what he was asking, and she knew it. He stared at her, waiting for his answer.

She sighed, looking away from him and sadly down at the now-still figure in the bed as she began her mini-lecture. "The reaction to the sound is simple conditioning, like Pavlov's dog. Since the 'reward' for this behavior is negative, the response to failure must be much more negative."

She didn't see him grimace behind her.

"As far as the reaction to pain, if I weren't seeing it happen, I wouldn't be sure it was even possible. Conscious submission to pain is a matter of will and incentive. To do it even when unconscious?" She shook her head. "It's not natural. An organism can't survive if it acts to increase the damage to itself. So it has to be force of habit, in some form. She must have been forced to do it often enough, and with sufficient incentive, that…"

The doctor's bitter attempt to explain how it could come about faded as his mind focused on those three little words. Force of habit. With a sick feeling, he thought it might just be possible after all.

The prison guards in Iraq expected instant obedience when they ordered prisoners to kneel. Jack learned to beat them to the punch – literally, as the command was accompanied by a vicious strike at the subject's head – and drop to his knees. Sometimes, the guards would stand in the hallway and shout 'kneel,' laughing as they heard all the prisoners thump to the ground. There was no time to baby his bad knee, he had to let his weight crash down upon it to avoid the head punch. It hurt, more and more as time went on, but it didn't stop the reaction. He had adopted that painful habit, and could easily picture himself responding to the command in his sleep.

He shuddered. The Iraqi prison had been hell as it was. Imagine if they had thought of _this_ creative new idea in torture….

oOo

Next: Jack faces the accused, and some of his own memories


	5. Facing Facts

Details, part 5: Facing Facts 

"Colonel O'Neill to Security Level 28."

He closed his eyes, allowing himself one deep breath as he mentally replaced his 'inscrutable' mask. When he turned, his expression was cold and unreadable. He strode briskly out with a nod to Janet.

Bob Cooper stood as the Colonel entered the Security office. "Sir! Is Jill alright?"

Jack stopped, surprised at this reception. He had prepared himself for defiance or anger or even the remote chance of regret. Not for this "worried husband" act. He narrowed his eyes, assessing the man behind all of this. This scum was responsible for his wife's … habits. For the attack on Carter. Teal'c was locked up until this bastard was safely in Leavenworth – to prevent the enraged Jaffa from killing him.

"You ought to know."

"What do you mean?" Bob Cooper looked nervously from the Colonel to the pair of SFs who had brought him in.

Jack just stared at him. Funny thing about silence. People always felt a need to fill it with words. Bob Cooper was no exception.

"I didn't hurt my own wife," he said, regaining his composure. "Ask her yourself."

Jack repressed a shudder as Cooper looked confidently at him. The cocky bastard was certain she'd lie for him, do whatever was necessary to please him. He remembered captors of his own trying to do that to him, their threats so horrifying that they were sure he'd do absolutely anything to avoid their ire. What had Bob Cooper done to Jill to be so assured of her reaction even in this situation?

A range of emotion surged through him. Revulsion and anger he'd expected; he wanted to hurt the bastard, crush him, break him like his captors had tried to do to him. More than that, though, he felt his gut tightening in a familiar fear as he recalled his own treatment at the hands of various captors, recalled similarly confident faces leering at him.

A rush of power suddenly overran the other feelings. He was the one in charge this time. He had the power. He could take revenge on this one, punish him, crush him to little sniveling bits… His long fingers twitched, eager to carry out his mind's desire. But that would make Jack no better than the men he despised. With an effort, he controlled his impulses an opted for a matter-of-fact answer.

"Don't have to. It's all on video."

"She was under the camera."

The SF's stiffened at that, recognizing, as O'Neill did, the admission. Not that they needed it. Jack had surreptitiously added two additional cameras to the lab, inadvertently causing the flood by loosening a second ceiling panel in addition to the one he'd used to block the official camera. There wasn't much of the lab that he couldn't see and hear.

"How do you know that?"

Cooper's eyes widened. "They, uh, they told me," he stammered.

"I don't think so." He looked coolly at -- through -- the man. Let _him_ be the one to feel like he was nothing.

Cooper shifted uncomfortably, but this time kept silent.

"Cell A2. Minimum rations." He turned to go.

"Er, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Teal'c is in A2, sir." The SF spoke, but Cooper was the one who looked worried.

Jack shrugged. "A3, then." He strolled casually away, showing the bastard that he was the trivial one, his fate decided, no big deal. He'd known, of course, exactly where Teal'c was, and had tossed the dice as to whether the SFs realized – or cared – that they'd be putting Cooper in with the man he wrongly accused. It may have been rash, but at that moment he'd been prepared to take the blame if Cooper were "accidentally exposed" to mortal risk.

He closed the door to his office too hard again; the sound echoed with a finality that reminded him all too vividly of cell doors being slammed. Automatically, he moved to the cot and sat on it, another echo of times long past and better forgotten.

He balled his hands into fists, squeezing so hard that his arms trembled all the way up to his shoulders as he struggled with his feelings. More memories echoed, unbidden and unwanted. Slamming doors. Harsh laughter. Screams, his and others. The quiet sobs of broken men slowly giving way to silence. And with the silence came the feelings. They cascaded over him in rapid succession.

Fear, of course. A constant companion. Fear of what they would do to him next. Fear that they would kill him. Or that they would not.

Desperation to escape. To not have to face the awful Fear again. He took a shuddering breath, almost a sob, as he was suddenly back _there_ again. The things they did were unendurable. And inescapable.

Shame. He had been so ashamed the first time he broke down and did something they told him to. Had berated himself for not being stronger, for not continuing to resist every single thing. It was the beginning of a long slide down a slippery slope, and he knew it. But sometimes it was easier to face the Shame after than the Fear before. More and more often as he slid down that slope towards

Despair. He was never going to escape. Never be free. Or fed. Or healthy. Or safe.

And no one cared.

He remembered the loneliness.

God, the loneliness. Not that he wanted anyone else to go through what he was going through. But it would have been infinitely easier with someone to talk to. To be brave for. Someone to say it was ok.

_Someone to know he was alive and not just some damned punching bag thrown in a closet when the gym closed_.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut, his next breath quivering more than the last. That was it, more than anything. Just someone else to know he was a human being, even if they couldn't help his situation. He had wished, dreamed, prayed for someone.

And there had been no one. No one but his tormentors.

He shuddered even now, remembering how unutterably alone he'd felt. He'd gone for months knowing he could be miles from the nearest friendly face, the punching bag deserted in the closet between rounds. Cooper, on the other hand, had been sent out among the friendly faces, forbidden to reveal the truth. What cruel torture to force her to interact with them from within her invisible cage, work and talk and laugh with them, taunted as they innocently flaunted their freedom before her.

Was the happy façade part of it, he wondered? What punishment paid for an unauthorized frown or a sigh?

He had no illusions that she could have helped herself; strong men had broken without being as conditioned as she. Cooper had been as helplessly trapped as any captive. Maybe worse. As a prisoner, Jack had dreamed of Sara and Charlie, pretending himself away to his house, to their smiles, to innocent times. For Cooper, there was no safe place, not even the mental haven of a home thousands of miles away.

Maybe that was why this hit him so hard. When he had made it back to the States, there had been an immense relief. To be on home soil, sure. But it was more than that. The US represented safety. Bad Things rarely happened here, and when they did, they were brief things measured in hours and days not weeks or months.

This couldn't happen here. Not to Joy Incarnate. Not to _anyone_ here in the Land of the Free.

But it had. Bad Things lived here in the Home of the Brave, just like in the rest of the world. His last little security blanket, the one he hadn't known he was clinging to, fell in shreds through his fingers. He felt cold suddenly, an internal chill that no cloth blanket could soothe.

He took a ragged breath, trying to calm himself. Jack resolutely opened his eyes and forced another, smoother, breath as he worked to reclaim his composure. He needed to take action, for his own sake as well as hers. Bad Things were here, but they weren't going to win.

He'd see that Bob Cooper was locked away, of course. But that was just neutralizing the enemy that was on point. She would be flanked by demons for a long time to come, and he wasn't about to abandon her to them.

She was one of his own, a survivor and sister-in-arms, and he would not leave her behind.

oOo

Next: Jack takes action


	6. One on One

Details, part 6: One on One 

Jack slipped quietly into the room. It was late, there was no one about. He'd timed his entry to avoid the night-duty personnel.

He'd decided on a course of action, and he didn't want any witnesses.

This was strictly between the two of them.

He paused, watching the lone figure sleeping in the dark room. _It would be so easy_. The thought came unbidden to his mind. _So easy. Do it._

He almost left, was on the verge of sneaking back out, when the figure stirred.

Cooper seemed to be dreaming.

_She looked up as the door opened, an automatic smile starting...and freezing when she saw who it was. He did not look happy._

_"Hi," she said uncertainly, suddenly wishing Fenton or Majors would return from lunch._

_He advanced without a word, and she stood. He came close, nearly touching her, and she looked up at him nervously. She stood her ground, bitter experience having shown her that either cringing or fighting back would only make matters worse. She silently reviewed one of her lists: don't look away, don't move away, don't tense up, don't raise your arms to cover or defend. These were all known to set him off._

_"Who were you expecting?" he demanded._

_"What? No one. I was working." She tried hard to keep her voice neutral. Sounding scared, annoyed, or angry were guaranteed to piss him off, too._

_"I saw that smile. You were expecting your boyfriend!"_

_Her eyes widened. Shit. This was going to be bad. She had never understood this part of her husband. He told her consistently, in so many ways, that she was repulsive. He criticized her hair, her clothes, her body. He never touched her, except to have sex, and even then he only touched "the good parts." She understood that she was disgusting, that she should be grateful to have him. She would never consider approaching another man, and even tried to keep her revolting self a safe distance from the women she worked with._

_So why did he act jealous sometimes? Had he overheard someone flirting with her? It happened often enough, but surely he knew as well as she did that it was just the other men making jokes at her expense? Phony come-on lines made great jokes when aimed at weapons or new technology. Or her._

_He saw her eyes widen and misunderstood the reason. "I knew it! You don't smile at me like that," he snarled._

_Her jaw opened part way at that. Of course she didn't smile at him that way. He was constantly correcting her; if she smiled it would seem like she wasn't taking it seriously. She had no right to smile at all, really, considering that he said she mucked up everything she touched. But she had found that smiling at other people seemed to make them happier; it was the least she could do to make up for them having to allow her to exist alongside them._

_She had to try to explain it to him. "No, I --"_

_"You think I don't know he's been coming here every day?" His voice was low, ominous, now. "What the hell would an alien soldier want in a physics lab?"_

_"Teal'c?" He was talking about Teal'c? "He's on Captain Carter's team."_

_"Don't lie to me! I saw him visit while you were supposedly working overtime. You told me you were alone here."_

_He just wanted –"_

_"I know what he wanted! And he got it, didn't he?"_

_"No! It's not like that."_

_"You didn't even wait to start celebrating my transfer, did you?" He swatted the white pastry box off the table angrily._

_He'd been transferred? "No…" She responded to the thought, but he must have thought she was answering his question._

_He moved forward, pressing against her. She hesitated, knowing she shouldn't back away, but quickly had to take a step back or be knocked over. He told her about his forced transfer, sarcastically said he hoped she and her alien boyfriend would be happy now that he was out of the way. She tried to deny it, but he wouldn't listen. He kept coming, forward and a bit to her left, and she kept moving back and to the right until she abruptly felt the hard wall behind her._

_A faint buzzing above her head made her glance up to see the security camera placidly swinging to one side. They were directly under it, in the one place where it could not see._

_She looked back at her husband, meeting his icy gaze. He raised his hands, and she forced herself to remain still. Don't look away, don't move away, don't tense up, don't raise your arms to cover or defend. She realized that her arms were bending up in an instinctive protective gesture, and deliberately lowered them, leaving her body open and defenseless. She held her breath and hoped for it to be over soon…_

Cooper shifted in her sleep, breathing faster as she spread her arms to the sides. Her fingers spread and twitched, as unable to find purchase on the flat mattress as they had been on the lab wall in the video.

Jack felt embarrassed, as if he had stumbled into a very private moment. She was clearly reliving today's attack, or one similar to it, and he felt like a voyeur. He suddenly wondered if anyone at the VA hospital had watched him re-experience his own torture in his sleep. Jack shuddered at the thought; the relationship between torturer and tortured was intimate, in a twisted sort of way. The torturer saw the raw, uninhibited reactions of his victim, even more than a lover would. When torture reached its climax, there could be no holding back, no control of any kind, nothing except the meager blessing that screams are wordless.

He decided to leave; it's what he would have wanted if their positions were reversed. And it would be a lot easier than what he had originally intended. He stepped to the side of the door, checking through the narrow window for the position of the security camera in the hall before opening it. It was pointing directly back at him and he froze. Motionless, he would look like a shadow unless someone looked very closely.

He suppressed a chuckle at the thought of that someone zooming in and seeing his eyes staring back. The humor died as the image was replaced by one of Cooper's eyes on the video as she surrendered herself to the attack.

He couldn't leave her behind.

"Cooper." He said it quietly, from near her ear.

Green eyes snapped open. She blinked, confused, as the man of her dreams was abruptly replaced by a colonel in her reality. She tried to sit up. He put up a hand to stop her, but did not make contact. You don't go casually touching torture victims; you couldn't know what innocent touch might bring hideous memories roaring back to life.

"We need to talk."

"Sir?" She yawned, still waking. Her eyes suddenly went wide, turning fearfully toward the door. "You shouldn't –"

"Shh, it's ok, Cooper. Jill."

She looked at him uncertainly, clearly afraid that his presence would bring Bob back for another round, and quite possibly afraid that asking a colonel to leave would bring punishment of its own.

"You're safe. I promise. Bob isn't coming." She pursed her lips, uncertain how to take his comment, so Jack continued. "Bob's safe, too."

He saw the guarded expression replace the worry: The prisoner, too often toyed with and tortured, wary of unknown circumstances.

"He's locked up. He won't be back. We know what's been going on, Cooper." She'd been told earlier, of course, as soon as they thought she was cognitive enough to understand. Cooper had denied it all, defending her husband just as he had predicted.

"Nothing has been –"

"It's on tape, Cooper. There's two cameras in the lab."

She flushed, lowering her eyes and pulling the blanket up to her chin to hide herself.

He understood her reaction. Unfair as it was, captives felt ashamed when they gave in and obeyed, no matter what the coercion. She must be mortified to be on tape submitting so totally. "I know, Cooper."

"You don't."

"I _know."_

The soft, intense tone made her meet his gaze. What was he saying?

He forced himself look her in the eye. No shirking on his appointed task. He'd thought long and hard about things; the only thing he could really do for her was to share his hard-earned wisdom to help her recover faster. "I _know_ Cooper. I've been there." There. He said it. No turning back now.

"Where?"

She didn't trust him. He hadn't expected her to. "To hell. And back. I came to tell you some things you should know."

"What things?"

He took a deep breath. "The things military school doesn't teach."

She stared at him silently.

He stared back for a moment. "This isn't easy for me, either." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I don't want to think about this crap. And I sure as hell don't want anyone to know about it. But…"

"But what? Why are you really here?" She didn't want pity or a voyeur into her private hell or, God help her, a new master taking over if the last was truly gone.

To her surprise, the corners of his mouth curved up, and he nodded his approval. "Good."

_Oh, great, none of the above. Just a full bird colonel going nuts and taking me along for the ride. Where's that call button…?_

Jack was heartened by her question. He'd been afraid he'd find a total basket case, beyond his or any other help. Heaven knew she had cause enough. "You stood up to me, Cooper. That's good. It means you're going to make it."

"My injuries aren't that severe, sir." She realized with dismay that she had tossed the call button overboard. It was dangling beside the bed, too far away to reach without him noticing.

"I'm not talking about your physical injuries, Cooper. Doc'll fix that."

"Then I guess we're all set, sir. Thanks for stopping by." _Hint, hint. Go bye-bye, Birdie_. She yawned exaggeratedly and settled herself as if to sleep.

He recognized that she was trying to push him off, and was sorely tempted to let her do it. Then he thought back to when he was the one in the bed. "I wish someone had been there to do this for me when I was in your shoes."

"Do what?"

"Tell me I'm not alone, for one thing.".

_What would he know? He had friends, probably a family. She had no one. Bob was gone. He hadn't allowed her to make any real friends. Even her dad, her last remaining family, was gone. A lump thickened in her throat as she thought of him. Dad would have stood by her, no matter what. But he was gone now, his life pointlessly cut short by a drunk driver. Ironically, she had been glad for Bob's presence when the news came. He had been the one to take the three a.m. long-distance phone call, and to calmly ask and answer questions. Gratitude had quickly dissolved into a fight, the last time she had dared to stand up to him, when Bob had demanded that she go back to sleep until a decent hour and she had refused._

Colonel O'Neill was still talking to her, saying something about being a prisoner. He'd been a POW, she knew, but that was different. He'd had steel cuffs and chains applied by strangers, not psychological ones inflicted by a loved one. When _he_ got out, no one had dreamed of laughing at him or saying he was stupid for not escaping or suggesting that he had liked it. She knew all that was ahead of her; she'd heard her coworkers talk often enough about abused women in the news.

"He wanted you to think that, you know."

"Sir?" She'd just play along until he went away. She'd done worse.

"Bob wanted to isolate you, to make you easier to control. But you knew that, at least in theory, because that _is_ one of the things they teach you in military school. No one can teach you how hard it is, though. How much you wish someone else just _knew_, and understood, even if they couldn't help."

Was he wrong, or was her skepticism wavering just a bit? Jack kept on. He'd known this was no easy mission when he'd taken it upon himself. "They tell you that it's your duty to try to escape, too. But they don't tell you that sometimes you just can't."

She stiffened. She had tried to apply the military prisoner-of-war class teaching to her predicament once, a long time ago._ "Watch for your chance to escape." Laughable. There was no escape. None. She'd made a vow, all those years ago. Till death do us part. And death would part them soon enough if she tried to run away from him. She snorted softly as the picture of him as the perfect widower came to mind, everyone consoling the unfortunate man as he cried over her grave._

Jack could see that he had her attention now. He didn't expect her to answer him, didn't honestly want to know the details of what had happened to her. He had enough nightmares of his own, thank you. The prisoner's handbook approach was working, though, so he'd stick with it for a start.

"They tell you to defy your captor any way you can, and they give you examples of guys who succeeded."

She nodded at him. Yeah, sure, she'd heard this.

"They kind of gloss over how much it sucks when you get caught. And you _will_ get caught, at least part of the time. That's not highlighted in the travel brochure, either."

She bit her lip, and he knew he was getting through.

He remembered the thrill of defiance, and the crushing defeat when he was found out. He had felt like such a failure! Even knowing other prisoners had been caught at other attempts didn't ease the emotional blow when you were nailed. And nothing could ease the physical blows from angry Iraqis. Which brought up another point. "There's also a nasty habit of getting your defiance rubbed in your face if you're caught."

_"Defy your captor any way you can, even if they don't know it. Especially if they don't know it." She had tried that one, too. But Bob always noticed. And he would take it from her. Her first attempts were too obvious; like not kissing him on the mouth when he would take her against her wishes. But he noticed, and demanded her mouth. She would be quiet, and he would make her talk. Look into his eyes when she would look away._

She watched the Colonel, a ranking officer, a hero, as he talked. It was flattering, really, that he was doing this. He obviously thought she had some value. She wondered if he would bother with her if he knew how weak and cowardly she really was. She had broken so easily…

_She half-heard the front door open, drifting in the cozy twilight before full sleep. The clank of keys dropped on the kitchen counter confirmed that her husband had arrived home after his double shift. She stretched languidly, rolling over and enjoying the thick softness of the down comforter. She smiled gently in contentment, her eyes sliding closed_

_Only to snap back open as she was pushed roughly onto her back. Her husband glared accusingly at her. "What did you do all night?"_

_"Wh-what?"_

_"Nothing's been done around the house. What were you doing?"_

_Her eyes widened. Shit. She should have been more careful. She couldn't tell him that she had read a magazine; such a waste of time would only infuriate him more. Besides, he'd demand to see the magazine, and she didn't dare to unearth "Oprah" from its grave halfway down the trashcan. The coffee grounds she'd so cleverly dumped in the top of the trash to discourage him from looking through it would now be evidence of her treachery; proof that she'd deliberately tried to hide it from him._

_She struggled to formulate a solid cover story, but she wasn't quick enough. He pinned her down, using his weight and one hand to immobilize her with her wrists above her head. She saw his free hand move and cried out._

_"Don't!"_

_Her plea only fueled his righteous anger; if she hadn't done anything wrong she shouldn't be concerned when he asked._

_She panicked under his assault, all military training, all thought, overcome by the pain and fear. She squirmed and struggled, driven by instinct alone, frantic to avoid him, to get free, to get away. She was vaguely aware of his continued demands for an answer, but was too caught up in her terror to respond._

_"Don't!"_

_She couldn't stand it, she couldn't, she just couldn't, not for one second more. But she couldn't avoid it, couldn't make him stop. Her stomach clenched. No more, not again, oh, please, no more…_

_"Don't!" She was pleading now, repeating the only word her terrified mind could form. Not again, not again, she couldn't handle it, she couldn't…_

_She did. She had no choice._

_"Don't, don't, don't!"_

_He cast her aside abruptly, tossing his hands up and stalking out in disgust._

_She lay still, ragged breath slowly evening out. She was seriously shaken by the whole experience. Not his anger, she knew she was risking that when she bought the magazine, which is why she'd buried it deep in the trash. It was a stupid thing to do, and she knew better. His pinning her, and the ease with which he did it, scared her. Demonstrated loud and clear how weak she was._

_The real panic had set in, though, as she realized how totally helpless she was. Forced to feel the pain as long and as intensely as he chose. The physical sensations were unbearable, she couldn't even face the thought of it happening. And she couldn't stop it. Couldn't deflect it or hide from it… Even now, her heart pounded at the very thought of being so exposed to his attack, unable to so much as curl up away from it._

_A single sob escaped, muffled by her hand, and she cursed herself for this added weakness. Some Air Force officer she was! She hadn't kept her head when it happened, hadn't endured in stoic silence when it was clear there was no escape. Sorry, Mom, guess I'm not your brave little soldier after all._

_Sorry, honey, for not being a good wife._

_Sorry, everyone, for being so weak and cowardly._

_Sorry summed it up. Summed her up. Sorry excuse for a wife. Sorry excuse for a soldier._

_Sorry, sorry, so sorry. As in pathetic. Loser. Pitiful._

_She was lucky he even stayed with her._

"Cooper?"

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of her name. She realized that he had said it more than once. She took a shaky breath, her eyes watching him, one hand nervously crinkling the blanket as she waited for him to express his displeasure at her inattention.

Jack noticed her reaction, and deliberately ignored it. He waited for her to focus on him again before he continued. "Then there's the mind games. Not the ones you heard about as a recruit at great grand-sergeant's knee. Those are direct – short and to the point, meant to get you to give up intel. Usually when they stop wanting intel, you're warehoused. Just set aside and ignored until you're traded back to your own side."

He paused and looked her straight in the eye. "What Bob…" he couldn't do it, not while referencing himself; his brown eyes flickered away from her green. "…and others…" He made himself meet her gaze once again. "…want is absolute control. That's when the games change. Someone – Bob," he corrected himself, this wasn't some nameless bastard pretending to be a friend to break a prisoner. "acted supportive..."

_That was the worst of it, she thought: in public he was the very best of mates. Generous, solicitous, and kind. People often said they envied her. He brought her food and drink without her asking, and they said he was thoughtful. Only the pair of them knew that she was required to consume what she was given, no more and no less. He did all the shopping, taking those choices from her as well. He even bought her civilian clothes, an act many considered far beyond the call of spousal duty. She was forced to agree, to thank him in front of them. What would they think if they knew that she was not permitted to shop for herself? That she was, in fact, rarely allowed out of the house alone except for work? That even inside, he controlled her activities? She was not allowed such foolishness as music or books or_

_Because they were foolishness, she reminded herself sternly. He was right. You could not show music or books to visitors like you could a clean house. Was it right to say that the closet was a mess but at least you knew that the butler did it?_

The Colonel's words intermingled with her memories. "…get you to do things. Anything, to start with. Work you half to death, then order you to lie down. Easy things, sometimes things that seem like they are for your own good. But once you start to obey, the rules get tougher and tougher…"

_She was a mess, a total disappointment to him, and he was just trying to help her. He chose her clothes and food so that she would look decent and be healthy; her own tastes ran to blue jeans and pizza. She was far too self absorbed and inconsiderate of others. If he weren't there to correct her, she would take the coziest seat in the room. Stand right in front of a store display, blocking the view of better people. He was right to help her, and she was just that much more selfish to resent it. He only had her best interest at heart._

She blinked herself back to the present. The Colonel was still talking.

"…choices. Shit choices, just to show they are in control." He paused, watching her eyelids flutter. Was he being too vague? He had hoped to get by without examples, but maybe he couldn't. He trotted one of his memories out like a vicious dog, carefully leashing the attached emotions. "Choices like picking one of two guys to get shot. If you don't choose, they shoot both." Jack closed his eyes briefly, pushing the horrid scene back into its kennel. He went out on a limb for the next one. "Or punishing you for refusing overtime and for getting home late."

A little gasp told him he'd gotten that one right.

"That's right, Cooper. I know how it was." If nothing else, he wanted to impress on her that she was not alone. "He made it look like you could walk away, right?"

She hesitated before nodding slightly.

"Another classic."

She looked away from him, clearly not believing him on this one. After all, he had been a prisoner in the literal sense, complete with walls and chains.

"They did that to me, too." He'd expected to have to share on this topic, and had a "Reader's Digest" version already in mind. Still, he found the bed rail inexplicably fascinating as he told the story. "They were moving me from one prison to another. We had spent a night in a house, just walked in and took the place over at gunpoint. Even so, by morning, word slipped out that there was an American prisoner being held in the village. The US Marines were going door-to-door, searching… The Iraqis held a gun to the house wife, told me that if the Marines found me, she'd be the first casualty in the battle."

He skimmed the smooth metal with his thumbnail, admiring its finish. Trying to hide from his own. "I hid. I was within six feet of a Marine, and I let him go by."

"You saved the woman."

He scoffed at that. "I thought so at first, too. I should have known better."

She looked confused again.

"They expected me to call out. The woman was just a game to them, a last joke on the American officer. Instead, I gave them leverage." Jack stared at the rail, alternately covering and uncovering a spot where the hall light was reflected.

"They dressed me in a burka and paraded both of us out of town, right past the Marines. They held a weapon on her, not me. Laughed and dared me to run, to save myself at her expense." He remembered it all clearly; his foolhardy altruism had made things a hundred times worse for the poor woman. If he had taken his chance, he might have won freedom for himself and a quick, merciful end for her.

"They killed her anyway, after the Marines left." He said it quietly. Actually, they had raped her in front of him first. Then made him do it, too. He'd laid his naked body atop hers and feigned the movement, his flaccid member hidden between them, thankful that at least they hadn't checked. Still thinking that as long as she was alive, at least she had a chance of recovery.

He rubbed his hand across the rail, distracting himself with the cool, smooth feel against his palm. "I made the best decisions I could, even if they turned out to be bad ones in the end." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "The point is that no matter what it might look like to someone else, there are reasons why you don't always escape. I had mine, and I know you had yours."

_Six months. Maybe a year. He said he'd wait that long before killing her if she left him. She swallowed, remembering how casually he had passed that tidbit on. Months, so that he would not be suspected. Months, to plan the perfect crime. Months, so that he could take her when she was no longer expecting it._

Tears sprang to her eyes. "You do understand."

He nodded solemnly.

"It's all just so pointless! Control for control's sake." She slapped the mattress, the move swinging the dangling call button and making it clang against the metal bed frame.

_Just like the sound of the door clanging open…._

_Then came the dramatic pause before the footsteps sounded with deliberate slowness down the corridor. His captor came into view, haughtily assessing his prisoner. He opened the cell door._

_"Come."_

_Jack felt himself breathing harder, but he refused to obey._

_The wires sprang out of the stun gun and impaled him, one in the shoulder and one in the chest. He cried out and fell, limbs jerking helplessly under the effect of the current. When the charge stopped, he sprawled limply._

_His captor jerked back on the wires, pulling their prongs from his body with practiced ease. He reset the weapon._

_"Come."_

_Jack watched him from his position on the floor but did not move. The man raised the weapon, and Jack covered his face and waited for his discipline._

_…._

_He remembered waking, slowly, limbs weak, whole body still trembling from the electric shocks. He rolled slowly over, crouching on all fours, head resting on the floor. The gray concrete wavered and sparkled before his bloodshot eyes, and even the coolness of the rough floor on his forehead did little to ease the nausea. Gradually straightening his arms, he achieved a kneeling position._

_The door down the hall clanged open. Slow, ominous footsteps drew near._

_His breath caught in his throat. Not yet! Oh, please, not again already!_

_His nemesis appeared in the doorway, slowly opening the cage-like cell._

_"Come."_

_Jack just glared defiantly at him. Watched him raise the stun gun…_

_The world – his world, a cage and a man, equally clad in gray – swam into view._

_"Come."_

_He waited, saw the weapon rise, shielded his face from its sharp bolts. The cycle repeated over and over again. Would it really be so bad to go to him? Just to cross the cell? Were a few lousy feet of rough concrete worth this? It was the principle, he knew that. But was it worth being tortured? It was easy to say 'yes' from a nice safe classroom, but here, facing imminent pain, it was a lot harder._

_"Come."_

_Muscles too weak and shaken by the shocks, he couldn't obey if he wanted to. And he found himself wanting to. He twitched helplessly. The weapon raised…_

_…._

_The door clanged open, and there was the usual dramatic pause before the footsteps echoed deliberately down the hall._

_Jack saw the triumph in his captor's expression, and knew he was losing the battle. Trepidation was winning over defiance, and they both knew it. It wouldn't be much longer now._

_The man opened the door._

_"Come."_

_He held out, somehow, that time. He woke later, alone in the same far corner of the cell. He knew what he had to do._

_…._

_The door clanged open, and there was a dramatic pause before deliberate footsteps measured the distance to the cell._

_Jack stared hatefully at his captor from where he lay crumpled on the floor. At the doorway._

_The man smirked at him. Nice try. But not good enough. He would have obedience when and how he ordered it. He stepped over Jack, crossing to the opposite corner of the cell. The place where Jack had started._

_"Come"  
_

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did the best you could in a shit situation. No one can ask for more."

"Thank you, sir. It means a lot."

His breath caught. He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud. He had said those things to himself, so many times, persuading himself that it was true.

Now, finally, maybe he could start to believe it. If he couldn't fault her for her situation, he couldn't fault himself for his, either.

oOo

Next: What happens when you accuse a Jaffa unfairly


	7. No Harm in Talking

oOo Details Part 7: No harm in talking 

Jack entered the outer part of the holding area, surprised to see the security man on duty watching the monitors intently. Not that he'd expected dereliction of duty. It was just that prisoners were rarely interesting enough to warrant such rapt attention without needing intervention. The man stood when Jack approached, but was still obviously distracted by the monitor.

Waving the man, Pavel, back to his seat, Jack approached to look for himself:

Bob Cooper sat on his bunk, at the end furthest from his neighbor, knees drawn up to his chest, wide eyes fixed on the other cell. Teal'c faced him, sitting cross-legged on the floor just beyond the bars that separated their enclosures.

It wasn't the action that Pavel found so intriguing. Teal'c was describing exactly what, in his culture, he was entitled to do to a man who unjustly accused him of adultery. Suffice to say no one ever made two allegations. Or had children after the first.

Jack turned to look at Pavel, who was again fixated on the monitor. "How long have they been…talking?"

"Since Cooper arrived last night. If you think this is bad, you should hear what Teal'c is entitled to do to Cooper for not confronting him directly! Jaffa are creative, I gotta say that. He can –" Pavel stopped abruptly, flushing.

"It's ok, Pavel. In fact, I don't think you are _allowed_ to prevent detainees from speaking." Let Teal'c have this tiny bit of revenge. After all, there was no harm in talking, right? This, rather than 'cooling off,' might even be the reason for Hammond's delay in authorizing the big guy's release. Since they couldn't knowingly allowhim carry out his threats, this was probably the most they could do to assuage his anger. "Besides, we might learn something about the Jaffa culture." He settled himself alongside the other officer to wait until Teal'c got tired or bored.

He had to agree with Pavel. Jaffa, or Teal'c anyway, were creative. It took a long time for Teal'c to describe in complete detail what he thought should happen to Cooper. Before he finished, Cooper snapped.

"Just shut up!" he screeched. "You can't do any of that to me! You're locked up the same as I am!"

"True," Teal'c agreed solemnly. "But it will not always be so. The time will come."

Cooper made a squelchy sound, and Jack wondered if he'd just swallowed his tongue.

Apparently not, as Cooper spoke again. "They won't let you get to me." His confidence seemed to grow with the thought. "It would look bad for the SGC. They'll find a way to stop you, you wait and see. You'll probably never get within a hundred miles of me!"

Teal'c considered. His tone, when he responded, was grave. "Perhaps you are right."

"Ha!" there was no mistaking the triumph in his tone. "So just give up the idle threats, alien!"

"Agreed." Teal'c removed his shirt with a single graceful move.

"Wh-what are you doing?" The fear was back in Cooper's voice.

"Making good on a threat that is not idle." Long fingers caressed the edges of his pouch, and something wet and black appeared in the opening.

"You-you can't! You'll die!" Cooper was curled up in the furthest corner of his cell, peering with terrified eyes over his crossed arms.

"I will die but once," Teal'c said calmly. "With my name avenged. You will suffer a thousand deaths, your human poet would say, as you are tormented for decades by this Goa'uld." It was snaking its way out and into his hands as he spoke.

"No!"

"I believe the customary penalty on this planet is for you to spend many years in prison. I'm sure the NID will allow you to put that time to good use by acting as the voice of a captive Goa'uld. Or perhaps medical experimentation will be preferred. Even if they merely leave you to enjoy your new parasite, you will never be freed." He held up the Goa'uld larva, giving his nemesis a good long look.

"It's small." He sounded surprised. "I'll kill it if you send it in here!"

Teal'c laughed, a rarity for him. "Do not be misled by its fragile appearance. These creatures have captured humans, Unas, and other species for centuries. Do not think you will be the first to defeat one." He lowered the symbiote slowly toward the ground. "Please try to kill it. When it has overcome you, it will punish you for your impudence. I shall enjoy that as my last sight."

Jack opened the door, intent on saving Teal'c. "Teal'c, don't!"

The big man paused, still holding the squirming snake. "He must suffer an appropriate penalty, O'Neill."

"He'll be convicted. He'll be in jail till he's an old man. It's not worth killing yourself."

"My name must be cleared."

"When he gets convicted, it'll tell everyone loud and clear that he was wrong. That everyone agrees he was wrong. Don't do this."

"Don't _ask_ him! Order him to put it back!" Cooper was still pressed against the far corner of his cell.

"Have you never seen a man act against orders?" Teal'c asked quietly.

"There's no need, Teal'c. He _will_ be convicted. It's on video. He told the SFs that she was under the camera. There's no way he'll get off."

"And if he does? Will you keep me from making a proper response?"

Jack hesitated. He couldn't honestly ensure that there would be another opportunity. But there was no way Cooper was getting out of this, so did it matter? "I'll make sure you get your chance, Teal'c."

He had no idea how soon he would be held to that promise.


	8. How It All Happened

oOo Details, Part 8: Collecting the Details (Next: Bob Cooper's Last Stand) 

"Doc…"

McKenzie waited patiently, used to uncomfortable questions.

"How could we not notice?"

He'd expected the question, sooner or later, from someone. "In many respects, people see what they expect to see. They expect to see an officer doing her job, and they don't look closer." He half smiled, ruefully. "She said she tested that theory once. She was upset, crying as she walked down the hall. But she didn't want to talk about it, so she made herself smile at the same time. Passed six people without a single comment. The trick, apparently, is to hold your breath as you get next to them so they don't hear a sob or sniffle."

Jack stared at him in disbelief for a solid minute. "Unreal," he said finally.

McKenzie had thought so at first, too. It wasn't often that a patient admitted to consciously doing things like that, as if it were a lab experiment. Given that she had accepted that she had no way out, though, she'd handled things pretty well. Better than some others he'd counseled.

"Very real, Colonel. And more common than you probably realize, although not to this degree."

oOo

Jack returned to his office to think about that. About recent events with a focus on Cooper. How could he have missed it? He should have paid attention to the details.

He'd seen her take the phone call from her husband; put that down to common marital strife.

Assumed she wore long sleeves in the heat to show support for Carter. But he hadn't actually asked.

She had commiserated with the lab mice. Rodents. Shouldn't that have told him something?

She had been just as absent as Carter from the dining hall, with no evidence of carryout food. That should have been a hint, especially since by that time he was aware of every morsel that came near Carter, even the Mars bar Captain Philips had given her.

Cooper had taken the overtime without batting an eye, even knowing what would happen at home. That didn't count, he reminded himself, no one here knew the consequences.

Her happiness at being confined had been a wake up call, but he had missed it. No one was happy to be confined unless it was keeping them away from something worse than infinite boredom.

It wasn't really that obvious even now, in hindsight. But she had had a lot of practice in, and painful incentive for, covering things up. It had taken interviews with several people to piece together the details.

Fenton had known things were less than stellar between the Coopers. Had assumed that was the reason her colleague had taken the bulk of the overtime hours, despite ramifications at home. She was aware that Bob Cooper demanded Jill Cooper's full attention after working a late night, that she would tend to him to his satisfaction before sleeping. But Fenton, for whom the very idea of not fighting back was inconceivable, had never imagined that Jill's evenings entailed more than sweet-talking the man, or maybe cooking treats for him or some such other innocuous activity.

Given the evidence, Jack was pretty sure that it cost her far more than a few hours' sleep. Since she routinely accepted overtime, though, the penalty for refusal must be equal or worse than the one for doing it. Jack, from harsh experience, suspected her husband amused himself by putting her in the catch-22 situation. Refuse a supervisor's request and be punished. Come home late and be punished. It fit the man's quest for complete control. Forcing a person into no-win situations was an effective way to break their spirit.

By contrast, Majors had thought the Coopers were the model of the happy couple. He wasn't alone; there was a general ripple of disbelief throughout the base. Majors had known that Jill Cooper had stopped eating lunch when her husband decided to save up for a motorcycle. He thought it was yet another example of how the ideal wife supported her ideal husband. The fabricated two-for-one sale at Burger King had simply been an attempt to do her a favor.

Everyone knew now that her happiness at being confined to quarters after that incident had stemmed from the abuse she endured at home. Jack shook his head. Forty-eight hours of safety in exchange for striking a fellow officer; he wouldn't have blamed Cooper for smacking every officer she met.

Carter had known nothing until she had dropped by the Coopers' house that ill-fated weekend a fortnight ago to deliver Jill Cooper's watch, forgotten in the lab. Carter had seen Bob's attitude toward Jill, and confronted him about it when Jill went inside to prepare some lemonade for all three of them.

Bob goaded and leered until Carter slapped him. Bob grabbed her wrist, twisted it behind her and grabbed her throat with his other hand as he warned her to stay out of his business. He slammed her against the brick house for emphasis, her unprotected torso taking the full force. She threatened to report him, and he had laughed as he reminded her that she had started it. Reporting him would result in charges against her, not him. Carter, already humiliated at allowing herself to be captured, steamed as he told her not to worry her pretty little head since he didn't intend to dirty his hands with her again. Don't expect Jill to back her up, if she did try to go to the authorities. If he had to, he would make sure she kept quiet, a harsh twist of both hands underlining the true intent of his words. Carter was free to talk to Jill about Bob; she thought it was almost a dare to do so. But he would of course then take his turn at un-twisting – the word was accompanied by a painful twist of Carter's back – the Captain's words. It was all over but his smirking by the time Jill returned.

Carter had therefore kept it to herself, quietly looking for a way to rescue Jill and enduring her own CO's pressure-increasing pranks. She thought that as long as she kept quiet, Jill was in no more danger than she had been in all along. The donuts had been the breaking point, but not for their squishiness. They had revealed Cooper's latest injury and proven that she was not safe after all. Her gasp when she was bumped was suspicious. Her obvious pain as she struggled to lift a mere donut was too much. Carter demanded immediate action. If she hadn't tumbled down the stairs in her rush, things could have ended much differently.

Teal'c knew all sorts of things. Amazing how observant the man was. And how direct. He had noticed that Cooper wasn't eating lunch and had gone to her directly one night as she worked late. He asked her if she was fasting in support of Carter, intending to tell her it was unnecessary. She told him about her husband saving up. He had later admired her resolve in simply accepting Jack's order of confinement on top of her husband's order not to purchase food from the dining hall, even though it combined into nearly three days without sustenance. The mushroom stromboli was no accident. The man had thought carefully of a way to feed the honorable Cooper without also sabotaging Jack's efforts with Carter. The donuts, too, were judiciously chosen against Carter's preferences.

Which made it all the worse when those simple actions, small gestures to support a praiseworthy colleague, had turned horribly against him. Teal'c and Hammond had arrived at Carter's lab shortly after Jack left. When an SF said he wanted to gather evidence, Teal'c had called up the tapes from the new surveillance cameras Jack had installed in the lab. The ones with sound, intended to eavesdrop on conversations in case no visual clues presented themselves.

Jack had seen them both, now. The standard silent tape showed Teal'c's growing disbelief and rage as he watched the tape of the incident with Cooper. On that tape, he could see "the" tape, the one Hammond and Teal'c were watching. Bob Cooper walking up to his wife, the woman backing away. Her glancing up, clearly recognizing the significance of the camera directly over her head. She slowly lowered her gaze, making eye contact with her husband as well as the hidden camera. The look in her eyes alone, as she fearfully opened herself to his assault with the same motion she'd made in the infirmary, was enough to make you want to kill Bob Cooper.

Teal'c had more than seen it, he'd heard the sound. Himself wrongfully accused. The cowardly accuser confronting not Teal'c, as was proper and manly on Chulak, but the woman. And then taking retribution from her, even though she offered no resistance.

Jack couldn't blame Teal'c for going ballistic and demanding immediate vengeance. Hammond really had no choice but to lock the outraged Jaffa up to save Bob Cooper's life. Not that the General was overly concerned for Bob Cooper at that point, it was more to avoid prosecuting Teal'c for murder. When Jack had seen "the" tape of the attack itself, complete with sound, he'd been surprised that the SFs had been able to incarcerate Teal'c at all.

Well, it would all be over soon. There was no possible way the abusive man could get out of this.

If he could have seen Bob Cooper at that moment, he wouldn't have been so sure.


	9. Cooper's Last Stand

oOo Details, part 9: The One That Got Away 

Bob Cooper slowly ascended the small dais and sat in the witness chair. He was the first, and only, witness for the defense. The prosecution had moved quickly through what appeared to be an open-and-shut case: they showed the tape of Bob Cooper battering Jill Cooper in the lab, added in the medical reports of her injuries – including the 'conditioning' – and topped it off with some poignant rhetoric about honor and justice.

Bob looked shamefacedly at the audience, most smugly awaiting his apology, a few expecting his claim of mental defect. That bitch Carter and the oh-so-superior officer O'Neill were in the front row. At least the alien had had the decency to stay away.

He sat up straight and made eye contact with the presiding officers as he answered the basic questions: name, rank, relationship to Jill Cooper, and so on. Stared into space as he quietly admitted to everything on the tape. He wasn't claiming to be innocent, just 'not guilty' due to extenuating circumstances.

When he was asked the big question – why? -- he artfully bowed his head and lowered his voice. "She… likes it," he murmured.

A stir went through the room and the presiding officer banged his gavel and threatened to clear the area.

In the regained silence, Bob Cooper was carefully reluctant as he described how it had started out innocently enough, with his wife wanting to try something a little rougher once in a while. His voice held just a touch of a plaintive note as he explained how he had thought she just wanted to spice things up in the bedroom. No harm in that, right? His gaze swept the room as if looking for confirmation. Which, actually, he was. Confirmation that they were buying his act.

Every eye was riveted on him.

He covered a smirk by dropping his eyes as if in embarrassment. He told them that her requests became more frequent, and more intense, and he had tried to stop. When she said she'd go elsewhere for satisfaction, he knew she had a problem. Afraid to ruin her career, he did not make her get counseling, deciding instead that it was safest if he fulfilled her needs at home. Over time, it had built up to an almost daily habit, but they were handling it discreetly.

His counsel took the opportunity to point out that the medical records showed evidence of long-term abuse but the military records showed not a single complaint by Mrs. Cooper.

So what had changed?

Bob looked at O'Neill, sitting there expressionlessly as if made of stone, as he talked about the incident with Majors. Cooper wished he could laugh in the Colonel's face as he used O'Neill's own disciplinary order as evidence against Jill. It was sad, very sad. His wife's problem was clearly growing, spreading beyond what he could relieve at home, if her violent tendencies were showing up at work. The subsequent confinement had been nearly unbearable for her.

His gaze shifted to Carter. She wasn't nearly as accomplished at hiding her emotions as Colonel High-and-Mighty. He enjoyed the anger and guilt building in her expression as he explained that copious overtime had only compounded the issue for his unfortunate wife. The Coopers rarely had time off together in the days that followed, and when they did, Jill was like a crazy woman, desperate for her rough pleasures. He'd tried to satisfy her when they finally had a night off together, but after all those days of being apart, one night was simply not enough. She told him she couldn't wait, and when he could find her alone in the lab. She said that it would be extra-exciting in the lab where there was a danger of being caught. Jill had planned the whole thing, including the position under the camera where they could indulge without being recorded.

They hadn't known about the other cameras, he said, but those tapes proved his case. He was looking at Jill now, his voice mesmerizing as he continued. His wife's first reaction to his entry had been a welcoming smile; would she do that if she was afraid of him? She didn't resist, moved easily with him to the pre-planned position, and looked him in the eye as she welcomed him to her with open arms. It was her idea, her fantasy, and her husband had fulfilled it for her. She had problems, but he loved her anyway.

"Ask her, sirs," he implored the presiding officers. "But don't blame her. She's sick, she needs help. I want to be here to help her."

His counsel led him carefully through the next part, raising the obvious questions themselves instead of waiting for the Prosecution's attack. Major Braxton glanced at a paper on his table, expressing his distaste for the opposing counsel's comparison of a woman to Pavlov's dog before flipping the offending reference document away from him. He agreed that Mrs. Cooper responded in certain ways to the sound of a belt being pulled off. However, it was not the result of anything as base as animal conditioning. It was a very human anticipation of pleasure. Another ripple went through the court, and he took the opportunity to point out that what she took pleasure in was not the subject of the hearing nor up for debate.

It was, however, the motivation behind much of what had happened.

More murmuring from the audience, quieter this time; they must be buying the story. So far, so good. It was all going as Braxton said it would. Bob raised his impression of blood-sucking lawyers a notch. Just one more tricky question and he'd be headed for freedom. And revenge.

Braxton continued calmly, as if discussing the weather. "Taking it as a given that Jill Cooper instigated the event, and enjoyed it" – the experienced lawyer steadfastly ignored the Prosecutor's obvious bristling and finished his question before an objection could be voiced – how did he account for the seriousness of his wife's injuries?

They had accidentally gone too far this time, Bob explained, dipping his head and looking up meekly. She had been so… so _hungry_ for it… he had tried to keep control, but she made him crazy the way she kept defending that damned alien and –

He paused, suddenly aware that he'd strayed from the script.

Braxton recovered smoothly, asking him whether he understood his wife to be attempting to escalate the situation with her words. He quickly agreed, and Braxton finished with a brief recap of how a loving husband's desperate attempt to cover for his wife's aberration had gone sadly awry.

It was all over but the official acquittal. Bob rose to leave the stand, and was stopped by the Prosecutor. He looked to Braxton for direction, and was waved back into the witness chair.

The Prosecutor, Major Whitney, cocked his head in a show of sarcasm. "You are seriously asking us to believe that Jill Cooper _wanted_ you to fracture her skull?"

"I told you, it was an accident. We went too far."

"Ah, yes. Because she," he looked back down at his notes, "goaded you until you lost your temper."

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean…" he trailed off, having no good way to answer the question. If he agreed that yes, he'd lost his temper, they'd claim he'd done it often. If he said no, he hadn't, they'd say he hurt her that badly on purpose. "It was an accident," he finished lamely.

"And after this 'accident'" – his tone made it clear that he thought the idea preposterous – "you ran away leaving your injured wife collapsed and helpless on the floor. And you expect us to believe that these are more actions of a loving and dedicated husband?"

Bob opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Whitney.

"No need to answer, sir, your actions speak for themselves." The prosecutor turned away and returned to his table.

oOo

They were going to let Bob Cooper off. The bastard was going to get away with it. Jack strode angrily down the hall, away from the temporarily recessed court martial.

Jill Cooper had been so affected by her husband's testimony that they had had to help her from the room. She'd been frozen, like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a snake. When they got her to talk, she babbled half-hysterically about being trapped. If she denied what her husband said, he would kill her for sure. And if she didn't, he'd be freed and she'd be at his mercy. There was no way she could take the stand in her current state. Bob Cooper had raised some doubt, enough to ensure only a small penalty, or none at all.

Well, the court might let him off easy, but Jack O'Neill wasn't about to.

He stormed through the halls, only hesitating as he reached his destination.

It was too much of a risk. Teal'c put too much stake in his honor. If he could not – or would not – control himself…

No, he decided not to go through with it. Jack turned away from the still-closed door.

A few steps away, he stopped again. Jill Cooper's voice echoed in his mind. _Six months_, she kept saying, over and over again, like a mantra. She was convinced her husband was going to kill her in six months. He'd told her many times that he would wait that long if she ever hurt him. Six months so there'd be no suspicion. Six months to wait and worry. Six months to live. _Six months, six months, six months_.

Jack turned back again. Teal'c was a grown man, a soldier. He would not take it too far.

Jack stopped again in front of the door.

Teal'c was a highly moral man, driven by anger and misplaced guilt. He had risked everything to avenge Shaun'ac's death. This was different; he had nowhere near as much attachment to Jill Cooper. But it was also different in that he had been unjustly accused and robbed of his chance to defend his name. Jack simply could not be certain of Teal'c's actions. Teal'c was his friend. Jack would not risk his friend's future, even to see justice done.

He turned away again, embarrassed to realize a pair of junior officers had turned down this corridor and seen him standing in front of a closed door. He ignored them. Or tried to. He couldn't help but hear them as he passed. They were talking about the Coopers, as almost everyone on base was. Poor Bob, going through all this for his crazy wife.

Poor Bob. Jack could hardly believe his ears. The manipulative sob actually had people on his side! He was not only going to get away with it all, he'd get sympathy to boot. Which would make it all the easier for him to abuse his wife and later terrorize someone new. Jack had no illusions that Bob would simply stop. He had to _be_ stopped.

Jack turned back for the final time.

He'd let Teal'c decide.

oOo

Bob Cooper tried not to look too confident as he strolled into the room beside his legal counsel. He was sure they had established reasonable doubt, despite the prosecution's damning cross-examination of him. Still, it was best not to look smug about it until after it was over. The only real question in his mind was whether or not the Air Force would – or even could – take steps to keep him apart from his lawful wife. Not that that mattered, either. He could play either the grieving divorce or the reconciling husband until everyone was sure he really was the innocent party. He needed the time to plan the perfect revenge anyway. Then, when everything was right, he'd punish her.

His gaze swept the room, gauging people's reaction to him. If they were any measure, the sympathetic and the reasonable-doubters out-numbered the condemning. Jill was noticeably absent, the prosecutors' table populated only by legal counsel. He sat quietly next to his own counsel at their table as they waited for the presiding officers to enter.

The back door opened before the front one did, and he turned to see if it was Jill. He hoped it was; he wanted to watch her face as they read the verdict that set him free.

It wasn't his wife.

It was the big alien from SG-1.

They made eye contact. With deliberate slowness, Teal'c raised a strip of black cloth and fastened it horizontally around his head, covering his tattoo. A Jaffa's declaration that he was acting in his own name, without or against orders.

The big man looked feral as a tiger, poised to take its prey.

Bob's attention was taken momentarily as the front door opened and the presiding officers entered. They were going to acquit him; he could tell just by their expressions.

He rose when ordered, waiting to hear the official verdict.

The lecture started, not in stern 'you're going to jail' tones but in the expected regretful "no good way to clean up this mess" reproach. Bob glanced away from them to the Jaffa in the doorway. Teal'c looked positively eager, the tiger about to be released from its chain. The big man was toying with several short lengths of pipe connected by a thick cable. Some sort of weird alien weapon?

"Lieutenant Cooper!"

Bob's attention was snatched back to a very annoyed superior officer. "Sir?"

"I asked…" the General exaggerated the word, emphasizing his displeasure at having to repeat himself, "if there was anything you wanted to say to the court before we give the verdict."

"Sir, I…" Bob glanced back once more. The big alien's lips crooked into a tiny smile as his fingers showed off a nasty looking hook at one end of the cable. All sorts of horrible possibilities about the device flew through his mind as he recalled all the things that Teal'c considered himself entitled to do. Bob turned back, his gaze passing over O'Neill in the process, reminding him that the Colonel had promised the alien an opportunity if Bob were not convicted. "I want to confess!"

oOo

"Um, Teal'c?"

It only took a moment to realize what his teammate was asking for. Teal'c handed over the 'weapon.'

Daniel accepted it, showing off as he flipped it around 'dangerously' before converting it back to its usual form and hanging his jacket on it. The archaeologist received a lot of gifts related to the Indiana Jones movies. This travel coat hanger, used in one of the movies to appear to threaten Indiana's love interest, was one of the more useful items.

It had served its purpose today, and O'Neill's. Bob Cooper was going away for a long time. Teal'c had reluctantly agreed to content himself with this Earth form of justice, though it rankled that he could not avenge himself with a direct physical challenge. O'Neill clapped him on the shoulder, giving his shoulder a bit of a squeeze. His human friend tried to understand, and had had a good point about the trouble killing Bob Cooper would have caused on this planet, but the solution still left him wanting more.

"T."

Teal'c met his friend's gaze, not sure he wanted to hear the placating words that were likely to follow.

O'Neill gave him a meaningful look. "I had to tell them about Bob Cooper's threat against you, T."

Teal'c felt his eyebrow rising in curiosity. If only there had been such a threat! He could have killed the man with relative impunity even here.

O'Neill squeezed his shoulder again. "They'll inform you when Cooper's released. So you'll be able to defend yourself if you need to."

Teal'c's other eyebrow joined the first, an expression of pleasant surprise now. He would have his chance at vengeance if he wanted it. He would just have to wait a while.

oOo Details, part 9: Eternal Vigilance

Jack walked into the office, saw the fair hair bent over the computer. "Morning."

The head snapped up, but not as abruptly. And, he was again a bit pleased to see, there was welcome in the blue-eyed gaze that met his.

"Hi, Jack."

"Hi, Daniel." He looked at his friend closely, determined that never again would someone else have to tell him one of his team was in pain. He looked fine. As had Carter and Teal'c when he saw them.

"Coffee?" Daniel kept a pot in his office to save trips down the hall. Jack nodded and the other man rose smoothly to get a cup. Daniel turned to find Jack smiling at him. "What's up?"

Jack took the proffered cup. "Nothing. Nothing at all."


End file.
